


An American at Hogwarts: Book One

by Kuronrko98



Series: Collective AUs [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family, Found Family, Implied Neglect, Meaning first year is in 2009, Other, do not copy to another site, get ready for: ill probably lose interest in this project two books before they would start dating, ill update character list as i go, youve heard of slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 07:43:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17977196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuronrko98/pseuds/Kuronrko98
Summary: When their uncle shows concern for where they should go to school, Sawyer gets sent to London to live with a side of their family they didn't even realize they had. They really just want to keep their head down, but they soon realize they chose the wrong friends for that.





	1. We Do What We Must

I don’t make a habit out of listening in on conversations.

The walls in this house are just so thin. People talk so _loud_. Sometimes I can’t help hearing things in these conditions.

I don’t know if mommy expects me to be asleep right now, but I’ll assume that she _doesn’t_ know I can hear her. I’ve overheard her talk about me on the phone before, normal ‘my kid exists for me to talk about’ stuff. I would be confused, honestly, if she didn’t mention me at all considering who she’s talking to.

I haven’t seen my cousins in years even though they do call fairly often. With Uncle Kane calling so late it’s only natural that Sam and I would come up. Still, I know for a fact that this is a conversation I shouldn’t be listening to.

I mean, I turned the TV off and drifted into the hall to hear better the first time I heard my old name. I’ve been practically holding my breath, nervous that I’ll be caught eavesdropping if I make a single sound. It’s not like I’m trying to not listen, so anything I hear is kind of my fault at this point.

“I don’t know,” she says, now. “That’s so far. If they’d asked you to send Gray 3,000 miles away from home at that age, would you?”

I frown.

“You _ran away_ , that’s different. There’s no reason to even think she’s like you and your kids.”

A pause.

“She’s not your neighbor’s niece! She’s—no, I’m not saying it would be a _bad_ thing, but—” She makes a sound, and I mentally pair it with an eye roll. “She wouldn’t really have to _leave_ , would she? Isn’t there a school here?”

She tuts.

“As if they’re any better there. If it matters so much to you, talk to that headmaster of yours.” The couch creaks, and she groans as she stands. I start to back toward my own room. “I’m sure he’d be able to find out if she’s on the list.”

A door opens, and I only manage to catch one more thing before it closes again.

“We’ll talk about it when we find out, alright?”

With another wall between me and her, I would have to stand next to her door to hear more. I’m not that brave, not at all, so I retreat back to my room.

That wasn’t ominous at all.

I close the door with a soft click. I stand in place for a few seconds to debate keeping the light on, and the desire for sleep ends up winning out against the half-hearted cleaning I was trying. I’ll get it clean this time. It’s just so late, even with tomorrow being Saturday and school almost being over. Summer’s taking too long to get here and the heat beat the end of school to Oregon once again.

I shuffle across the room, feeling around piles and avoiding breakable items by touch alone. When my toes find the edge of my camping mat, I drop to my knees and burrow under the thin sheet.

I’ll call Jess tomorrow and see if they know what Uncle Kane had to say and why it’s upsetting my mom so much.

It takes ages to fall asleep.

I try to stay put, because you can only fall asleep if you’re not moving, right? My arms, though, don’t like it. They don’t like it when I lay on my back with them at my side. They don’t like it when I face the wall and hug them. They don’t like it when I flop onto my stomach and throw them over my head to sprawl past my pillow.

Eventually, I whine and wrap my arms around the pillow itself and that seems to shut them up just fine.

Then my eyes decide they want to look up and make my head pound instead of relaxing and going to sleep with me. This, I don’t know how to fix. I’m still trying to puzzle it out when being awake stops being what I am.

And then the line between falling asleep and jolting upright only feels like a second.

 _Geez_.

My heart races, breath coming hard, and I don’t even know what I was dreaming about. I hold a hand to my chest and wait. Wait for everything to steady, for my head to stop spinning.

“ _Jessica!_ ”

I shove the sheet into a bundle at the bottom of the bed and heave myself to my feet. Somehow, it’s harder to get to the door in this half-light than it was in the dark. I end up stumbling past the door instead of walking through it when I get it open.

“I expected more time, you ass—oh, I’ll call you back.”

Mommy sits with a notebook in front of her, the phone to her ear, and two plates full of hash on the table.

Already, this is weird because my mom barely ever cooks. When she does everyone is expected to get their own plates. The way she gestures to the chair closest to the second plate makes it clear it’s for me. It smells good, though, so I drop into the chair and reach for the ketchup.

“Good morning,” she says as she drops the phone back on the table. She doesn’t really look at me, too busy with the papers.

So I just echo it back at her and start eating.

“I talked to Kane last night. And this morning,” she starts again. She clears her throat and finally looks at me. “And he thinks it would be a good idea—I mean, if you _wanted_ to, of course you always have a choice. And it wouldn’t be for another month at least, but—”

She stops. I busy myself with another mouthful of potatoes.

She takes a breath and runs a hand over the surface of her notebook. “Your uncle thinks you should come stay with him for a little bit.”   

Oh.

Uncle Kane takes kids in from all over the place. He comes to visit every once in a while. They all come to family reunions during the summer. Mommy used to say they were ‘problem children,’ but I’ve never seen any of them cause problems. Maybe I only think that because I’m like that, too. Like how the house apparently smells like cats and mildew, but I don’t smell that at all because I live here. Can someone that causes problems tell when someone else does it? Or is it like the smells?

“Jess?”

I drop my fork and look up, snapping back into the conversation.

“Why?”

“Oh, Kane would—he’d explain it much better than I can.” She waves a hand back and forth, a dismissal. “You can think of it like a vacation. You’d get to see all of your cousins again while you’re there.”

“When would I come back?”

She freezes.

“Well.” She doesn’t follow that with anything, flipping to another page in the notebook. After a few seconds, she taps a line. “You would be going to school there, s-so, you could always come back during your breaks. And for summers! But—”

Her smile dissolves, and for a second I think she might cry. It only lasts for that second, though, and her eyes crinkle closed when she offers me a warm but wobbly smile.

“Things will be weird for a while, but Kane is much better equipped to help you through it than I am.”

I stare at my plate.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, voice small.

Her chair squeaks, and she’s at my side to wrap me in her arms in an instant.

“No, sweetie, you did _nothing_ wrong.” Her words are hushed, thick. “You’ll see when you get there that you are so special and you can be with people who are special, too. I’m so sorry, I don’t know where I would even start explaining past that, but I am _so proud of you_ already.”

I leave on July 1st.


	2. Magic

Mommy didn’t tell daddy about me moving to London until after I agreed to go. He wasn’t happy, but when he talked to me about it he said the same thing my mom did. Uncle Kane knows how to deal with my situation and he doesn’t.

I didn’t know I had a situation.

They told me to pack everything, but only to bring a day bag on the plane. It’s only now, stepping off the plane in a different country, that I wonder what I’m going to do about clothes until the boxes get here. This was my first time flying, and if I didn’t have to do it by myself, I would _definitely_ do it again.

“Sawyer!”

I perk up at the sound of my _real_ name, and I don’t even try not to grin when I see Uncle Kane, his partners, and a few of my cousins waiting up ahead. I shift the bag on my shoulder and jog to meet them further away from the gate.

The three adults herd the whole group from three sides. The Flight twins giggle together with linked arms, Eden holding an unfamiliar boy’s hand and Jaluha holding a smoothie. Jackson walks outside of the triangle of adults, but he holds Uncle Devon’s hand. Then, there’s—

Jess shoots out of the gaggle to nearly bowl me over in a hug. They shriek in my ear, and once I’ve recovered from the surprise, I do the same.

“I missed you so much!” They step back to look at me.

When Uncle Kane brings Jess to visit, mommy always says something about the two of us looking like twins even though I’m older than them. The same light hair, the gray eyes. She says I should learn to smile from Jess, but other than that we’re similar enough for her to mention it every time.

Then Uncle Kane would laugh, says he knew it would happen when he gave them my name. He stopped saying that when we both decided we didn’t like the end of that name and I got rid of it altogether. My mom does it instead, now.

They take my hand to pull me into the group. “Wait ‘til you see the house, you’ll love all the—”

“Hey, what was the deal?” Uncle Kane interrupts lightly.

Jess immediately covers their mouth with their free hand for a second, then lifts it in a solemn promise. “‘We’ll tell them everything when we get home?’”

I finally look to my uncle to find him nodding.

I used to ask where the scars reaching from his neck past the collar of his shirt came from, but after four completely different stories I stopped trying. I’ve never seen his smile leave his face for more than a few seconds at a time. Even the sober expression he aims at Jess retains a good amount of his normal humor.

Then he turns his attention to me.

The grin he flashes is the only warning I get before he scoops me up, slings me over his shoulder and starts walking again. I giggle, and my flailing hands are caught by Jay.

The smile they offer now is one of the first I remember being directed at me. They didn’t come to the last few reunions, but they did send notes and drawings of strange creatures with Uncle Kane to make up for being unable to tell me stories themself. They’re so busy, I’m ecstatic they came to meet me at the airport.

“Did you eat on the flight?” they ask. They press a kiss to my cheek, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them.

I shake my head, and they frown.

“That’s twelve hours. You must be starving!” They let go of one of my hands to tap Uncle Kane’s shoulder, and he nods.

“Haz had lunch on when we left. There’ll be plenty.” He bounces me on his shoulder, and I shriek a laugh. “Chris said it was your first time flying. You like it?”

I nod.

“It was so cool!” I let my free hand wave while I try to find the words to explain it all. “The clouds were _right there_ , and—”

“I dunno why they had to take a plane,” Jackson cuts in. I look over to see curious eyes on me. “They could have been here _hours_ ago.”

“Jack.” Devon shoots him a malevolent look. “Wait until we get home.”

I know that I’ve met Devon before—there are pictures at home—but he hasn’t been to visit in a long time. His sharp eyes soften when they turn back to me, and I smile. He towers over everyone else in the group, watching over us like a hawk.  

The doors open ahead of us, and I shudder when we step outside. Kane deposits me back on the ground. I rub my arms.

“It’s _cold_.”

_It’s July!_

Everyone laughs, just a little, and my arms tighten around my middle. I should have brought a coat. Mommy told me it isn’t as warm here. It wouldn’t be a problem, if I’d just—

“Here.”

I jolt back to the now and turn my head to find Jay offering me a jacket. I take it and slip it on. We start into the parking lot and I slot my hand into Uncle Kane’s offered grasp.

The drive to the house is wild.

I stare at the car while everyone else piles in ahead of me, unsure if I’ll fit with eight people already shoved into the small silver thing. When I get in, I’m surprised to find the car roomy and easy to find my own space in. Several more people could probably fit in here without it feeling cramped at all.

Jess catches me looking around and pats my hand.

“Dad has a whole thing planned,” they promise in a whisper. “We get to share a room, so I’ll tell you anything he doesn’t.”

“J-J, if you say another word, they’re trading rooms with Jackson.” Uncle Kane doesn’t show any other signs he was listening. Jay tries to reach over Devon to smack him, but their hand is caught before it can get that far.

“Unless _you_ want to tell Gray she brought the boxes upstairs for no reason—” Devon tries.

Kane tuts.

“Now you’re telling secrets.” He catches my eye in the rearview mirror and grins. “Gonna ruin the surprise.”

I frown at him, and he barks a laugh. I shake my head and turn resolutely to the window.

Nerves mix with excitement in my stomach to make me feel a little sick. I’m so far from home. The streets are strange, nothing familiar in sight, and it would take half a day and more money than mommy has to spend to get back.

But I get to find out what everyone’s been talking about today.

I get to know what my ‘situation’ is, whether me being special is a good thing or not. I get to know what I did or what happened to make me move in with my uncle. I get to know why Jackson thinks I shouldn’t have taken a plane.

Planes are faster than anything else, right?

The ride itself is loud, with the second row of seats behind me full of whispers from the Flight twins and Jackson. At some point, Karson (the little boy I don’t really know) sees a candy store and wants to go, which leads to a long back and forth about how much candy is at the house, Karson wants candy now, but isn’t he hungry(?), hungry for candy, and on and on.

And now I want candy, but I’m so _hungry_.

When I ask what’s for dinner, the entire car shrugs.

“Haz never tells us anything,” Jess explains. “Xe makes what xe wants and we love it anyway.”

We pull into a corner lot with several other cars, and I peer back outside.

The building is a few floors high, and it looks more like a small apartment building than a house. As I’m stepping out of the car, the door slams open and another familiar face stomps out.

“Dad. You _have_ to talk to Aster and Ryan,” Gray demands when she gets close enough. “Their muggle magic shtick is getting destructive.”

“Gray!” Uncle Karl whines. “Read the room.”

She scans the group and grins when her gaze lands on me.

“Sawyer! You’ll have to tell me about your trip later. For now,” she narrows her eyes to turn them back to her dad. “Talk to them. You’ll be much more constructive about it than I would.”

She spins on her heel and goes back to the house. She leaves the door open, and the rest of us follow her in.

From the inside, this floor looks like a home.

A pile of shoes litter the space next to the door, but no one removes their shoes so I don’t either. The mouthwatering scent of a meal drifts through the house, and my stomach growls.

Couches and lush chairs line the walls of the front room. I don’t know how many people live here, but there certainly isn’t a shortage of sitting space. I can’t see much through the three other doors—one on each wall— leading out, but the rustle of voices makes the house feel alive.

“Right.” Uncle Kane stops in the middle of the room and turns to me while everyone drifts through the door to the right. “I’d tell you everything now, but you’re obviously starved. We’ll give you the whole spiel after lunch.”

He gestures for the same door the others went through with a wink.

“Then you can go check out your new room while I call your mom.”

I only get a few steps into the dining room before I stop dead.

Several pans loaded with food hover through the air while others settle on potholders on a massive round table. Someone I’ve never seen before follows them from another room with a thin stick held in one hand and a full plate in the other.

I cover my mouth with my hands to hide what I’m not sure is a grin or a grimace.

“Crap, I thought I was fast enough,” the new person says with a crooked smile. “Sorry about your surprise, Kane.”

He laughs behind me.

“You’re good.” He drops a hand on my shoulder, and I do my best not to tense up when I look up to him. “Sawyer, this is Haz. Devon’s kid.”

Xe waves and takes a seat as the last of the pots land on the table.

“Go ahead and sit,” Uncle Kane says before backing back out of the room, and I don’t wait to be told twice.

Most of the seats are empty, so I take the one between Haz and Jess. Haz shoots me a wink while Jess tugs on my arm and gushes about how excited they are to have me here.

I try not to stare at Haz, but xe just made a whole set of pots and pans float through the air! Xir eyes, pointed at door I came through, are dark pits rather than xir father’s lighter brown. Xir hair curls the same way, though it’s longer, and sits in a puff on the top of xir head. The strangest difference between xim and xir dad is how sickly pale xe are. No mentions it, though, so I try not to think about it.

I look up at the sound of Uncle Kane’s voice. It sounds like it’s coming from an intercom or a megaphone, but I don’t see anything like that in the dining room.

“Lunch is ready,” his voice says. “And we have a new arrival, so it’d be nice if everyone actually ate at the table today.”

Within seconds, footsteps roar above and soon after another six kids file into the dining room. All of them direct waves at me before finding their own seats. Jay and Devon follow them in, speaking in hushed voices, then split apart to sit on opposite sides of the table with sour expressions.

Haz snorts and leans close to me.

“Bet you five Galleons Jay leaves early.”

I look at xim, but xe shows no sign xe even spoke. When I look back at the table at large, Uncle Kane has settled in his own seat and any extra chairs have vanished.

“Good afternoon, everybody!” He grins at the group, and everyone echoes the sentiment back at him. “There will be a lot of time for everyone to introduce themselves to Sawyer this summer, so we won’t delay lunch for that. Make sure you _do_ say hello at some point, though, yeah?”

He nods at everyone’s affirmations, then inclines his head directly at me.

“Did you want to say anything before then, SeeSaw?”

I flush at the nickname and shake my head. He smiles and picks up a fork.

“Alright, then. Dig in.”

So, we do.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry in my entire life, and this is _so good_. I tell Haz so when I finish scarfing down a roll filled with potatoes and gravy. Xe responds with a sharp-toothed grin and a gentle nudge with xir elbow.

“One of my many skills.”

But xe eats from a plate xe brought in with xim rather than taking any of the food from the table. I want to ask about it, but I _really_ don’t want to be rude.

I like xim.

It doesn’t take much of the unfamiliar but rich food to fill me up. Still, more than half of the other kids have left the table by the time I fall back into my seat with a sigh. Now it’s just the adults (including Haz and excluding Jay, who left early), Gray, Jess, Aster, and two kids I haven’t met before.

Uncle Kane drops his own fork and knife and claps his hands together.

“Okay, time for the fun part,” he declares. “Sawyer. I know this is weird and might be a little hard to get used to. How are you doing so far?”

I glance at Haz and think about the floating pots. The car that was bigger than it should have been. Dancing around strange words.

It’s all weird and I think I’ve read enough books to know where this is going.

“I’m good,” I say eventually.

“Good.” He nods once. “Because I swear this’ll all feel pretty normal soon. We brought you here because your name is down for a special kind of school.”

“Is it magic?” I blurt. His voice dies in his throat. “It’s magic, isn’t it? The car, and the house, and the—”

I lift my hands and gesture at the set of pans on the table.

Haz laughs at my side and rests a hand on my shoulder. I try not to stiffen, but the way their lazy grip whisks away an instant later promises me that I failed.

“You took the extended car?” xe cackles. “And you expected them not to notice? Merlin’s _beard_ , you’re an idiot.”

Uncle Kane scowls at xim, then turns another grin on me.

“ _Yes_ , it’s magic. Your mom and I agreed it would be better for you to go school here than in the U.S.” He makes a face. “Ilvermorny isn’t too good at respecting a person’s choices about who they are.”

“A magic school,” I say slowly. “Why didn’t Sam go?”

“Oh.” He shrugs. “Her and your mom don’t have magic. Even if she _did_ , I don’t think she would have had a hard time going to school back at home.”

Mommy said I’m special.

But she obviously didn’t want me to come. She said that _Uncle Kane_ wanted me to move here. So, I ask why she isn’t as excited to have me here as everyone else.

He averts his eyes for a second.

“Your mom doesn’t see why it’s so important that your school doesn’t call you things you don’t want to be called.” He says it slowly, and I have a feeling he’s not saying everything. “I already sent an owl to the headmaster of Hogwarts and all of your records have been changed to reflect your name and your pronouns.”

_Oh!_

“And the school at home wouldn’t have done that?”

He shakes his head.

“I’ve been working to change that for a long time, but no one there wants to listen.” He shrugs again and pushes up from the table. “You’re a good guesser, kid. Why don’t you and Jess head upstairs so you can get settled in?”

Jess doesn’t even wait for him to finish talking to drag me out of my seat. He keeps going behind me, though, telling the two whose names I still don’t know that it’s their turn on dishes.

I can’t help wondering if there was some kind of mistake.


	3. The First Letter

It’s been two weeks.

With Jess’s help, I’ve gotten most of my things put away (all of the boxes were already here by the time I got off the plane). They distract me just as much as they help, but it’s nice to have someone willing to help me in the first place. I don’t remember them being this talkative, but there are a lot of things they haven’t been allowed to tell me.

“I can’t wait ‘til I get to go,” they say. “I tried to get dad to send an owl to Dumbledore, but _no_.”

I shift books back and forth on the bookshelf I was given, not sure if I want to put them away alphabetically or by genre. Or both. I might leave a shelf in the middle empty for the pictures mommy sent with me.

“Why don’t you just use phones?” I ask while I prop one of the frames up on the shelf to see how it looks. “Wouldn’t it be faster?”

“ _We_ use phones.” They sidle up beside me to drop another stack of books on the desk next to the shelves. “There are so many muggleborns here, it wouldn’t make sense not to. But wizards don’t normally have them.”

“Why not?”

They hum.

“I don’t know!” They laugh and head for the door. “Jay probably does. They know everything.”

When Jess said I’d be sharing a room with them, I thought they meant one room. A normal bedroom. That, I was wrong about.

I was _right_ when I thought the building was an apartment building.

So, Jess and I get to share an entire apartment. We’re forbidden to use the kitchen for anything other than storage without permission, which is dumb. Other than that, it’s ours to decorate and use how we want to. We each have our own actual rooms and share a living room and a bathroom.

Jess says the second room was added when Uncle Kane announced I was coming.

I like being able to leave my room and see someone that really seems happy to see me. Even with Jess in the other room, because they promised not to come in without knocking I actually feel like I can clean without asking them to leave the apartment altogether.

I can shower without feeling like I’m being watched.

I can _breathe_.

I clear all books from the middle shelf and set up the frames of pictures from home. Maybe I can get more sometime soon.

“Breakfast is ready!” Uncle Kane’s voice echoes from the lower levels. I adjust one last picture, one of my sister and I in Halloween costumes, and start for the dining room.

Everyone was right that this feels surprisingly normal already. Even the magic that the adults do without even thinking doesn’t surprise me anymore.

Unless they do something I haven’t seen them do yet. Which is often.

At the bottom of the stairs, I pause to check the chore chart.

Haz cooks (except for dinner during the week) and everyone takes turns with the rest of the chores. I almost panicked when Uncle Kane put me up to clean the ‘sitting room’ on the first floor, so he knows about my problems with doing things in front of people now. He promised I’ll only have to do what I feel capable of doing.

I do a lot of dishes, and the chart keeps that trend.

“Hey!”

I jump and turn, but I smile when Eden stops in front of me.

His white eyes—strange compared to his siblings’ green eyes, but Uncle Kane told me not to bring it up when I asked about it—crinkle in a grin. He reaches out to touch my forehead, something I’ve seen him and Jaluha do with each other fairly often as a greeting, and I lean into the contact. I don’t know if it would be crossing a line to return the gesture, though, so I opt for my own greeting.

“Morning.” I start for the dining room, and and he walks at my side. “You have the yard again.”

He huffs out a breath.

“Yeah, I know. Guess what, though?” He lowers his voice when I incline my head to listen. “Chores outside are more fun than dishes.”

I shove him, and he laughs.

“No roughhousing,” Haz calls from the other room. We walk into the dining room at the same time xe does from the kitchen. Xe winks at us both and we exchange a glance and a smile.

I take my normal seat next to Haz and snag a few waffles and a bowl of cereal.

I glance at xir plate to find xim tearing into a series of juicy sausages. Breakfast goes normally. Everyone bickers. Kane and Haz, the only two adults still in the house, share news in chilly voices. It's when I'm about to take my plate to the kitchen that something new happens.

Haz doesn’t look up at all, but xe still mutters around a mouthful, “Mail’s here.”

I lift my head from my plate in time to see nine sleek owls land on the outer sill of the dining room’s wide window. Uncle Kane doesn’t turn to look until all nine tap the window with their beaks in tandem.

The dining room erupts in chatter the second he does look, though.

“Nine!” Jess elbows me in the side. “I told you your letter would come to us!”

Uncle Kane slides the window open and takes the letters from the shuffling birds. To the last one, he holds a hand up and requests that it waits a moment. Even stranger, it settles back down on the sill and peers into the room.

He turns and drops the pile of letters in the middle of the table.

“Have at it,” he says, and retreats through the door to the sitting room.

Everyone reaches in to grab for their letters, but I watch the owl. It watches me back.

After a few seconds of this, I grab a piece of sausage from my plate and rise from the table. Jess makes an inquiring sound to my side, but I round the table to stop at the open window.

The owl tilts its head when I hold out the piece of meat. It doesn’t wait long before taking it and chirring gratefully. It tilts its head the other way, and I smile.

Maybe I do get why wizards use owls.

“Making friends?” I jump at Uncle Kane’s voice. He taps the edge of an envelope against my head before leaning forward to attach it to the owl’s leg. “Here. See if you can’t convince your boss to listen to reason.”

It looks at me one more time before taking off. The window slides shut now that it’s gone, and Kane grins.

“You look at your letter yet?”

I shake my head, and he gestures back at the nearly-empty table where a single envelope lies. I pull the closest chair out and sit.

The letter’s heavy, the paper much thicker than anything I’ve ever gotten in the mail. It’s sealed shut with a shield shape depicting several different animals around a fancy H. I trace the snake with my finger, then brush the lion. The third is some kind of bird, and I’m not really sure what the fourth one is.

I turn the envelope over to find slanted green ink. My heart swells just at how it’s addressed.

**Mx. S. Perry  
** **The Corner Room  
** **Gleeson Agency  
** **London**

I look up once to make sure that I’m alone, then tear the envelope open and empty it of its contents. I unfold the letter itself to find two sheets of paper, the second of which I place on top of the envelope while I stare at the first.

I read over it three times before it really sinks in. Yeah. This is a letter written by a witch accepting me into a school for witches and wizards. I’ll be going to magic school. That makes _me_ a witch or a wizard.

Everyone here talks about how they ‘showed’ magic. Jaluha disappeared Aster’s favorite plate without meaning to when they were in a fight. Jess transported themself to a bus stop they were late for elementary ( _primary_ ) school. Humphrey floated down the stairs when he tripped once.

But I don’t think anything like that has happened to me. Uncle Kane says everyone shows their magic differently. That I might not have even noticed it or that it might have been really subtle. I didn’t miss the look he gave Jay during that conversation, though.

What if they’re wrong? What if everyone’s wrong? How can they tell that I have magic if the strangest thing about me is that I’m _not_ showing any? What if I’m not a witch or wizard at all?

Is there even a gender neutral word for that?

I puzzle over that for at least a minute before I remember that there’s another sheet of paper. I flip it over and I only have to read it once to know that I won’t be able to find these things on my own. I know just who to ask about all of it, though. I jump up with all three pieces of my letter clutched to my chest and march directly into the kitchen.

Haz has already started setting things out to start lunch. Once again, xe doesn’t look up or show any sign xe notices me here other than xir words.

“I was starting to think you’d forgotten to do your chores,” xe teases. I nearly defend myself, but xe laughs before I can say anything. “I know how exciting the first letter is. Take your time.”

“Actually.” I step further into the kitchen and drop my papers on the kitchen island. I settle myself on a stool and watch xim oversee three knives chopping vegetables. “I don’t know where I’ll find all these books. Or a wand.”

Xir wand jerks in xir hand, the sound of knives against wood ceases, and xe finally looks at me. Xe glances at the door before xe speaks. “Why not ask Kane? He’s your uncle, right?”

I shrug.

“He gets distracted easily.” I pick at the corner of my the letter. “I would ask Jay but they’re always busy, and you’re—I dunno.”

“Oh.” Xe watches me for a second, then smiles. “I understand completely.”

Xe waves xir wand and all three knives settle onto their respective cutting boards. With the wand away and xir attention completely on me, xe rounds the island to sit next to me.

I separate the supply list from the other paper and place it between us. Xe looks stares at it with a growing frown. After a short while, xe nods and hands it back.

“You can get all of this in Diagon Alley,” xe says. “Kane should be taking you and the others sometime soon for what we don’t already have hanging around. Most of this is easier to show than it is to explain.”

I scan the list again. These books look _cool_. I wonder if I’ll be able to convince Uncle Kane to get me more than what’s on the list.

“Hey,” Haz says suddenly. Xe taps the paper. “How do you do with crowds, by the way?”

I blink up at xim. Xir coal eyes gleam in the light of the kitchen, making xim a little unnerving. It’s cool.

“I don’t really like them,” I admit.

Xe nods and pushes up from xir stool.

“How about you get your dishes done,” xe says. Xe pauses to wave xir wand and mutter, vanishing the half-cut vegetables. “And see how the house does without me cooking for it on this fine Sunday. I can take you to Diagon Alley when you’re done.”

I beam at xim and go to bolt for the door to grab the rest of the dishes. I stop, though, before I leave, to look back. Xe tilts xir head in a question, and I ask one of my own.

“Why don’t you eat what you make for us?”

Xe stares for a second, then bursts out laughing.

“Keep it in the house, but—” Xe puts a finger to xir lips and for the second time since I’ve met xim, xe bares xir sharp teeth in a grin. “It’s because I’m a vampire.”


	4. The Magical Menagerie

Jess shoots up from the couch when I slam the door shut behind me.

“Hey! Can I see your letter?” They cross the room, and I hold the papers out without hesitation. “Sweet, thanks.”

I leave them to scan over the acceptance letter while I go into my own room to drag some shoes on. Haz is waiting for me downstairs, now that I’ve finished my chores. We can gush over my letter when I get back.

They wander into my room after me, nose buried in the parchment.

“Wow. It’s so weird to think I’ll have one of these next year.” They drop the letter on my desk and actually seem to see me for the first time now that I’ve got my shoes on. “Where are you going?”

I beam at them.

“Haz is taking me to Diagon Alley.”

They frown and glance out the sunny window.

“Right now?”

I shrug and scoop my letter up. I look at it for a moment, at the shining ink, before slotting the papers back into the envelope and shoving the whole thing in my pocket.

“Xe offered, so…” I shrug and head for the door.

They don’t say anything else before I close the door to our room(s?) behind me. I start to hear the shout after one set of stairs, but I don’t actually hear what they’re saying until I’m about to start down the last one.

“You _know_ why!”

I pause on a step. I’ve never even heard Uncle Kane sound serious before, and now he’s yelling at—

“Actually, no!” Haz shoots back. “I thought you, of all people, would respect my freedom.”

“This isn’t—” his voice drops, and I miss a few words. “—none of my business. If you get hurt out there, on the other hand...”

“Get hurt?” xe scoffs. “It’s _Diagon Alley_. Everyone knows me th—I work there! _No one cares but you_.”

“Sawyer doesn’t need—”

“Doesn’t need to be in a mob of 20 people.” Xe snorts at something. “You can try all you want to be everywhere at once, but you’ll regret it if you drag them out to such an overwhelming place when you can’t focus on their wellbeing.”

“I need to keep an eye on them.

“Oh, I saw their supply list,” Haz hisses. “I know exactly what you’re keeping an eye on.”

Silence stretches on.

Footsteps creak below, and a door slams.

Haz sighs, then claps xir hands.

“Alright.” Xe pokes xir head around the corner to peer up the stairs at me. “Sorry you had to hear that. Ready to go?”

I steel myself and nod before continuing the rest of the way down the stairs.

Xe knew I was listening. The way xe pats my head before leading me into the living room confirms that much. I want to ask about what I heard, but something tells me not to.

“So, this’ll be a little weird,” xe says. Instead of walking out the front door, xe stops in front of a fireplace set in the wall. Xe grabs a bowl from the mantle and stoops slightly to show me the sparkling powder inside. “Diagon Alley is a little out of the way, so we’re taking the floo network.”

I reach out and touch the powder, which moves like sand under my finger. Xe continues when I don’t ask the obvious question.

“You’ll have to throw a pinch of the floo powder into the fireplace, tell it where you’re going, and step into the fire.” Xe nods when I look up in alarm. “Yeah. First time can be a little scary.”

I stare at xim, then at the powder, then the empty fireplace. They keep explaining the process while I try to beat back my growing nerves Xe straightens up to point xir wand at the grate and it erupts in flames.

“Now, I can go first and you can follow. Once you see how it works it should be easy and you’ll know to get out when you see me.” Xe watches me very carefully.

I tap my teeth together, then turn my gaze back on the fire.

“Does it hurt?”

Xe shakes xir head.

“It’s just warm, like a bath.”

Okay, then.

I nod, and xe grins. Xe tells me how to do it again while xe takes a small handful of the powder and hands the bowl to me. Xe has me repeat the instructions back to xim and drops the powder into the fire.

It springs higher and flares emerald the second the dust touches it.

Xe’s already moving forward when xe calls, “Diagon Alley!”

With a spin of ash, xe’s gone.

My heart pounds in my throat, and I try not to think about what I’m doing. I take a pinch of the floo powder and place the bowl back on the mantle. Then, I throw the dust into the fire. I flinch back when it flares higher.

“Diagon Alley,” a say, much less forcefully, but the fire seems to react all the same.

I take a hesitant step into the fire, and it almost feels like putting my foot in a strong current, but warm. It’s trying to pull me away, but it can’t while I’m still partway out. I take a shaky breath and force myself to take the final step.

The spin hits me like an ocean wave, though my feet remain firmly planted on the ground. I’ve felt this before, in the cold of the Oregon coast, but this is warm and almost safe.

Other than the spinning.

My stomach turns over, and I grit my teeth. If I can handle the rides at the fair, I can do this. I force my eyes to open—didn’t even realized I’d closed them—through the ash and the heat of the fire.

I catch sight of Haz and lunge forward. Xe catches hold of my wrist and drags me out. Xir grin makes it worth it, the pride there. Xe pats my arms and ruffles my hair, and I watch the dust fly.

“Hey, look at that.” Xe wraps an arm around my shoulder and guides me through what I see now is a sparsely populated bar. “You’re a natural.”

“Ah, Haz. Who’s this?” the man behind the bar asks.

Xe raps xir knuckles against the bar without stopping. “From the Gleeson Agency. Here to get their school stuff.”

He nods and seems to lose interest.

We pass a group of three witches passing around a teacup. One of them looks up when we walk by and nudges one of the others. The two of them peer into the cup, then back at me, and send me a wink.

“Lilian. Lilah. Leave them alone,” Haz mutters when we stop by a worn door.

“Let us have our fun,” Lilah (or Lilian) whines.

“The leaves grew _very_ clear when you came in,” Lilian (or Lilah) says.

Haz pulls out xir wand and all three of the women laugh. Xe doesn’t point it towards them, though, but at xir arm.

 _“Impervius_ ,"xe hisses. _“Gelida ignis, protego sic a sole.”_

A sheen slides along xir body until it covers xim like a second skin of light. Slowly, it fades along with the three witches’ laughter. Xe looks directly at them and aims a particularly unfriendly smile their way.

“I don’t trust your branch of magic.” Xe jerks the door open and beckons me out. “Now, ladies, if you’ll excuse us.”

I catch the third witch turn, milky white eyes trained on me, before the door closes behind us. I want to ask who they were, but a churning feeling in my gut, a heavy weight pressing on my shoulders, tells me I should keep my mouth shut.

Xe doesn’t show any sign that xe’s upset when I face xim again. Xe inspects a brick wall on the other end of a small yard. Xe raises xir wand but pauses before doing anything with it.

“Hey, in case you ever need to find this place.” Xe lifts the hand not holding xir wand and beckons me again. “I’ll show you how to get in.”

I stop at xir side, and xe points xir wand at a brick directly above the handle of the trashcan.

“You start here.” Xe checks to make sure I’m watching. “Go three bricks up and two bricks to the left.”

Xe does just that and taps the brick xe ends up at with the tip of xir wand.

The brick shakes, and I stare at it when a pinprick of light appears from the center. It grows into a hole, on the other side of which figures bustle, then a complete archway leading into a sunny lane.

I stand stock-still, staring at the cobblestone road. At the strangely dressed groups moving from store to store until the crowd swallows every detail. Conflicting sounds and smells, rumbles and cries turn my head around and I’m not really sure what to think.

Haz takes my hand and I snap back.

“You alright?” Xe asks. Xe smiles when I start walking.

I nod, but I’m too busy taking everything in to really answer. Xe was right when xe said this was overwhelming, but it’s so _cool!_

I can’t absorb what the different stores are called, or what the people around us look like, it’s all too much, but I can guess what we pass based on the sounds. The screech of a number of owls, I assume it’s some kind of animal store (maybe a post office?). Someone calls out the prices for a new book, and I want to check it out immediately.

Haz chuckles when I try to go for the store and continues our path straight down the road.

“Hang on. You brought your muggle money, right?”

I slap my free hand against the pocket holding my money. Mommy gave me $100 before I boarded the plane, and I haven’t had a chance to spend any of it. We were supposed to go get it changed for the kind of money they use here when I first got to London, but we never did.

I tell xim so. Xe squeezes my hand.

“That’s okay. The goblins don’t care what kind of money it is.”

“Goblins?”

Xe inclines xir head at something ahead, and I look to see a grand white building rising above the street. I pull closer to xim when we start up the steps.

I almost don’t notice the figure standing beside the massive front doors.

With the fog my brain still rests heavily in, I don’t think I react outwardly to what I assume is a goblin. They look as though they might know something I don’t, which wouldn’t be all that surprising considering the circumstances. They bow as we pass, strangely-long fingers clasped in front of them.

The goblin barks a laugh when I respond by inclining my head.

This whole place is strange, I think I’m starting to not be surprised anymore.

“Okay.” Haz stops a few paces past the door and surveys the cavernous room. The white of the walls blurs with the buzz of the crowd. Xe glances at me. “How do you feel about roller coasters?”

I straighten up to look at xim, and xe seems to relax at my grin.

“Good. Good.” Xe starts for a counter lined with scales, behind which another goblin sits on a tall stool. “Good morning, Ulluk.”

Ulluk nods to xim and peers over the counter. It feels like his gaze cuts right through me. I shift under it, but he doesn’t look way.

“I didn’t know Gleeson let you take his charges out,” he remarks. “Or is this one yours?”

Xe shrugs.

“Kane’s having a moral crisis.” Xe pulls a small bag from xir pocket. “We need to convert some American muggle money to Galleons and open a vault for Sawyer Perry. Next to the other Gleeson vaults.”

Ulluk shifts his gaze back to Haz, though I still feel that crawling under my skin.

“Of course. You have the fee for the vault, I assume?”

Haz drops several golden coins on the counter, and the goblin hardly looks at them before scooping them up and onto a scale. He seems to like whatever he sees because the coins are gone with a flash and he places a key in Haz’s open palm.

Then Haz nudges me.

“Alright, give him your cash.”

I rummage in my pocket and offer the goblin the rumpled bill. He takes it, peers at it, then hums his approval. Ulluk drops a neat little bag that jingles upon impact on the counter.

“Twenty Galleons, thirteen Sickles, and thirteen knuts,” he announces.

“You’ll want to put most of that in your vault,” Haz murmurs when xe hands it to me.

“Enjoy the ride.” Ulluk smiles down at me, and it makes my stomach turn unpleasantly. Then he jerks up and calls, “Furguff!”

Haz makes a sound as another goblin lifts a hand from beside a door at the end of the counters.

“Is Griphook not on today?”

Ulluk leans in and lowers his voice. “Collapsed yesterday.”

“But that’s—!” Haz glances at me and visibly backs down. Xe shakes xir head. “I’ll find you later.”

“Have a good day shopping!” Ulluk calls with a mocking tilt to his voice as we head for the next doors. Haz raises xir hand in a very rude gesture, but the goblin behind us merely cackles.

“Haz.” Furguff nods to xim, then at me, and leads us through the door into a shadowy chamber.

“Do you know all the goblins here?” I ask, lowering my voice when it echoes.

Xe shakes xir head.

“Just the ones that hang out at The Leaky Cauldron.” Xe shrugs. “It’s easy to get to know people when we all work on the same street.”

The goblin whistles and a cart rattles along a set of rails to stop just beside him. He bows us in and the instant he settles himself in the front we shoot forward.

And it _is_ like a rollercoaster.

I grip the sides of the cart and crane my neck to watch the dark scenery pass by. It’s all caves, with the wind blasting us as we rocket through the tunnels. Down, down, down we go.

It doesn’t take long for the blistering wind to morph from exhilarating to freezing. For the excitement in my stomach to become nausea. By the time the cart jerks to a stop, I have my face buried in Haz’s back so I don’t have to watch the blurred cave walls shoot past.

Xe keeps xir hand on my shoulder to steady me while we step out. I barely catch xim giving Furguff two keys before he opens a vault. This one stands empty. The bare floor waits for something to fill it up, and I guess that means it’s mine.

“You probably don’t want to keep all of your gold with you all the time,” Haz tells me as I pull the bag of jingling coins from my pocket. “Maybe leave most of the Galleons here and take the rest.”

I open the bag and peer into it.

Xe takes a few minutes to explain what Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts are, taking one out of the bag to tell me what it is before moving on to the next. It doesn’t exactly make sense, but I get the concept.

I hop back out of the vault with five Galleons and all of my Sickles and Knuts. I’m still fiddling with the bag and listening to how the coins knock together inside when the second vault slams shut.

Haz tucks a much larger bag into xir own pocket and climbs back into the cart. I grimace at the thought of the long ride back up, but follow xim in anyway.

“I’ll take care of your supplies,” Haz says when we emerge back onto Diagon Alley. “Well, it’s really _Kane’s_ money, but—”

Xe hisses, flinching back the instant we leave the cover of the bank’s front steps. Xe steps back into the shade and taps xir arm with xir wand again, repeating the whispers xe performed back in the bar. Xe shines again, the light blinding, then steps into the sun as though it never happened while the light fades.

“What is that?” I ask while xe scans my list of supplies. “What happened?”

Xe glances at me. “The sun.”

Oh. Vampire.

Xe points to a store called Madam Malkin’s, the closest of the places we need to stop at, and we enter to the sound of a sharp bell. A short witch rushes from a covered doorway with a harried smile.

“It’ll be—oh! Haz, you should have said you were coming in today.” She rounds a counter and shuffles through a rack of odd clothing. “I finished it early. I was going to send an owl, but—”

“Actually, we’re here for school robes.”

The witch pauses in the act of pulling a flimsy piece of sheer cloth from the rack to actually look at us.

“But if you have it done, I’m more than happy to pick it up now.” Haz grins, then gestures between me and the other witch. “Sawyer, this is Madam Malkin.”

I wave, Malkin smiles warmly, and I wander the front room of the store while they discuss whatever it is xe ordered. Several mannequins show off plain black robes with blank name tags. I get close to one of them, and the figure shifts to show another angle.

I manage not to leap back, but I do nearly jump out of my skin. The mannequin rocks forward on its heels and seems to peer at me with its eyeless face. Then it shrugs and returns to flaunting.

Yeah, magic, definitely something to get used to.

“Okay, come on back,” I flinch when a hand drops on my shoulder. The hand disappears before I can spin around.

Madam Malkin stands behind me, her hand outstretched. Though I know she couldn’t have missed that, she smiles all the same. Haz leans against the counter still, running that sheer fabric through xir fingers.

“We can get you all fitted for your robes, dear.” Malkin gestures for a doorway into the back. I glance at Haz, and xe gives me a thumbs up without looking.

I follow through the doorway, my hands shoved in my pockets. I don’t want to look at the mannequins gushing over each other’s display items or the other kid already on a platform being fitted. As it is, when Malkin drapes a too-big robe over me, I have to let my mind wander to ignore every pinch and every rustle of fabric.

I don’t know why it bothers me so much.

It doesn’t last very long, though. The finished robes pull over my head and several other items fold together into a larger version of the bag I find Haz with when I follow Madam Malkin back into the front room.

Before we go, Haz hands Malkin a slip of paper.

“These are the measurements for those binders,” xe explains. “Three of each, if you can.”

The other witch squints at the paper and sighs. “Jack just keeps growing, does he?”

Xe nods and slings both bags of clothes over xir shoulder.

“They should all be around in the next few days for robes.”

We wander the streets for a few more hours. Xe stops before we exit each store to reapply xir sunscreening spells and we slowly gather all that I need. I buy a journal and three books about magic in the western United States.

We stop for lunch at a small tea shop, where Haz refuses to let me try xir tomb tea or the biscuits xe shovels into xir mouth one after the other.

“Clot cakes,” xe explains with a full mouth. “Not for normal wizards.”

We circle back to the beginning of the road to enter a store I didn’t notice when we first walked by.

“Ollivander’s. Wand shop.” Haz pauses with xir hand resting on the doorknob. “He’s a little weird. He’s been thinking in terms of how wands see people for a long time, so try not to take anything he says to heart.”

At the word ‘wand,’ my heart kickstarts. This is where I’ll find out, isn’t it? Whether I really have magic or if everyone has been wrong? If I’m even capable of trying to do what Haz and the others can do?

I don’t get a chance to ask what he might say before xe opens the door.

Dust motes swirl in the soft sunlight streaming through the cobwebbed windows. Further into the store, shelves that make the room seem impossibly big compared to the outside hold too many thin boxes to even begin counting. An old man watches the door from behind a low desk with impossibly wide eyes. They touch me for an instant before moving to Haz.

“Haz Alabaster.” He says softly. “Having trouble with your wand already?”

Xe lifts xir chin indignantly. In a flash, xe holds xir wand poised in the air and something passes through the room. It feels warmer, safer, like something chilling has been set to rest.

“My wand is just fine. Better than my last one, thanks to you.” Even with the defiance of the action and the touch of hardness to xir eyes, xir voice drips with respect. Xe lowers xir wand. “Sawyer needs one, though.”

“Hm?” He looks back to me, now interested. “A new Gleeson? Just how long have you been staying in that home?”

“A couple weeks.” I want to look away from that gaze, but I’d rather know if he looks away first.

He nods and rounds the desk. Haz nudges me forward, so I meet him in the center of the room.

“Muggleborn? Or…”

“Both,” Haz interjects. “Leave it alone, Ollivander.”

For the first time since we entered, the man smiles. A silver measuring tape appears in his hands and proceeds to take a number of measurements while he tells me how the wands work.

I find myself wondering how many wands can come from a single dragon’s heart. How big is a dragon’s heart? How big is a _dragon?_

“And you’re certainly taking all of this well.” His voice is so quiet I have to strain to hear it. “Magic. A new country. A new world to wrap such a fresh brain around.”

I frown.

“I read 200 books last year,” I tell him, braver than I feel. “I’ve read weirder things than this.”

His laugh, too loud for such a quiet space, dulls immediately in the dusty air. The tape falls to the ground and he turns back to the endless shelves. Haz nudges me while we wait.

“200 books? Impressive.”

I shuffle under xir smile, and xe looks up to watch Ollivander.

“They gave us prizes for reading books and taking quizzes about them,” I explain. “I would have read most of them anyway, but still.”

Ollivander returns with a number of boxes, then hands me the contents of the first. “Elm and unicorn hair. Ten inches. Flexible.”

I expect the wand to be cold when I touch it, but it’s not. Smooth under my fingers, it feels as though it just came out from under the sun. I shoot a furtive glance at Haz and receive an encouraging nod. I take a deep breath and move to wave the wand.

Still, I barely raise it before Ollivander snatches it away from me.

I take the next wand he gives me (hazel and dragon heartstring), and when it doesn’t give the result he wants I huff out a breath. He lights up and dives back into the shelves. A moment later he returns with a new wand.

“Red oak and phoenix feather. Nine and a half inches. Slightly yielding. Try it.”

This one seems to buzz in my palm. The fact that it’s still in my hand when I lift it all the way makes my heart sing, but before I finish the arc down it’s back in its box. I hold the wandmaker’s gaze while he considers me for several long moments.

“Ollivander.”

We both turn to Haz. Xe beckons to Ollivander, and he moves to hear what xe has to say. They aren’t even close to being out of earshot when xe starts talking.

“Kane and I noticed some strange things.”

“Yes, well, _strange_ is normal with magic coming in—”

“No,” xe interrupts. “Listen, I would never tell you how to do your job but I did do a lot of research on wands.”

“I am aware,” he says, voice sour.

“Silver lime is worth a try.”

“Silv—” He cuts off and looks back to me with an odd smile. “I see. Give me a moment.”

He sweeps into the maze of shelves.

Haz settles beside me again. Xe shoots me a wink, but I have a feeling xe won’t explain anything while we’re still here. If xir track record is to be trusted, I’m certain xe knew I was listening.

“Here we are!” Ollivander announces, this time returning with a small stack of eight dust-caked boxes. “My full stock of silver lime wands. Why don’t you choose one?”

He spreads the boxes across his cluttered desk, and I wonder what I’m supposed to be looking for. What kind of feeling will let me know which wand is the right wand? Should I open them all? Should I trust chance and assume that _that_ ’s a part of it? I run a hand over all eight boxes, and none of them feel particularly interesting. There’s no magical draw. No sign or screaming in the back of my head.

I just pick up the second from the left on impulse.

“Very good. Now, let’s see if it—”

I jerk back when he tries to pull the box from my hand. I know he’s probably trying to remove it from the box, but if I get to choose the wand, I want to do the whole thing myself. I pull the lid off before he can stop me. I slip my fingers between the crinkling paper and withdraw a remarkably smooth wand. The others were lukewarm, but this may as well be the same temperature as my hand. The burnish of the wand almost makes it seem white, a barely there tan somehow making it whole.

If this isn’t it, I don’t think I’ll find my perfect wand.

“Silver lime and phoenix feather.” Ollivander murmurs, now taking the box from my lowering hand. “Twelve and a half inches. Whippy. Give it a go.”

Instead of raising it, I flick it like a crop.

A sparking dart flies from the tip and embeds itself in the side of one of the selves. I nearly drop the wand in my haste to apologize, but both Haz and Ollivander burst into applause. I watch as, before my eyes, the dart fragments into silver sparks. It leaves no sign that anything punctured the shelf.

“There it is!” Ollivander crows. This time, I let him pull the wand from my grasp to wrap it. “A silver lime wand hasn’t chosen a student in years. And my only phoenix feather core. Brilliant.”

“ _Thank_ you, Ollivander,” Haz cuts in. “Is it still seven Galleons?”

He inclines his head in a tolerant nod.

We make one more stop before leaving, a pet store called Magical Menagerie. Haz tells me to look for an animal, that xe’ll pay for it and anything I need to take care of it. Xe calls it a welcome gift, then leave me to browse while xe chats with a wizard at the counter.

I consider so many of the amazing creatures.

I think about a number of snakes, but realize that it probably wouldn’t enjoy Hogwarts that much with everyone saying how cold it gets there. I avoid reptiles after that, even one that smolders in its tank. I doubt I would be able to hold it, and what would the point be?

In the end, it comes down to a cat or an owl. _Or_ because the letter was pretty specific about that.

I run a finger over a snowy owl’s head, then watch a barn owl preen. A screech owl stares back at me while I try to decide. There are a few sphynx cats, simply labeled as hairless. I guess they don’t want to confuse anyone with an actual Sphinx. So many cats. Some of the older ones lounge in their own cages. Most of them don’t even look up.

In the end, I get neither.

Between the cats and the owls, a giant black bird sits on a perch. It looks like the crows back home, but it’s so _big_. Unlike the other birds, it isn’t behind the bars of a cage. I pass by a few times before I really stop to look at it. It turns its head to point a dark eye at me.

I reach out to pick up the card in front of its perch.

Common Raven  
 _Corvus subcorax_ , female  
Picky eater, selective hearing, trained in delivery  
 ~~10G 3S~~  8G

She flips her head around to look at me with her other eye. After a few seconds, she screeches a caw. Though it kicks my heart rate into overdrive, I grin at the sound. Again, familiar but different. Like a crow gargling water.

“Haz!”

She croaks at the shopkeeper when he gets too close.

Apparently, they’ve been calling the raven Circe with varying rates of success. Maybe she just doesn’t like that name. I squint at the bird and try to think of a fitting one for her.  What was that goddess called? Sam had the book and she was reading about Greece. Something about chaos, something about—

“Eris?” She flips flips her head to look at me again. I smile, giddy.

While we gather everything I need for her, I find out that:

  1. Haz works here on weeknights.
  2. We’ve been away from the house for six hours.



Hearing that, I’ve never been more exhausted in my life.

Still, I leave Diagon Alley with a smile on my face and Eris already on her way back to the house with an addressed note to Kane tied to her leg. Haz has everything I’ll need for school floating in a closed trunk behind xim when xe sends me back through the fire in The Leaky Cauldron.

Best of all, I have all the proof I need that there wasn’t a mistake.


	5. Impostor Syndrome

Ever since the trip to Diagon Alley, I’ve been doing dishes and helping Haz in the kitchen every day. Xe says xe doesn’t need my help, but xe never actually makes me leave. By now, I know everyone in the house by name, room, and eating habits.

Jess and I, obviously, room together. I like almost everything we have here after so long of ramen and soup. They like bacon, for some reason, and yogurt. They jump at the chance to try food I like, but they don’t understand why I like chicken more than steak.

K, who everyone else calls Karson because he’s not ready to tell them he doesn’t like his given name, and Jackson are roommates, though K only arrived a few weeks before I did. They’ll both eat whatever we give them, K without a single word and Jackson after a long winded complaint about any problem he finds with it. He’s always focused on Uncle Kane, though, when he says these things, and Haz says it’s a long campaign to get him to take us out for food more.

Eden and Jaluha room together, though I don’t know why. Whenever they end up in their apartment together they argue for hours on end. Haz told me not to take it seriously: Everyone was miserable when Uncle Kane gave in and tried giving them different roommates. No one will give me details about it, but they love everything the other hates (except strawberries. They both would kill for strawberries).

Gray, the oldest out of everyone going to Hogwarts this year, rooms with Ryan. Ryan can’t do magic, though the family he was born into can. He didn’t say so, but I have a feeling that might be why he’s here instead of with them. Gray prefers everything in the form of a salad, and I saw Ryan reduced to tears when Haz made fresh bread.

Aster—Eden and Jaluha’s older sister—rooms with Humphrey. He’ll be coming to Hogwarts as a first year this year. Like me. Aster’s vegan, which Haz complains about in the kitchen fairly often. Once she came in while xe was ranting and Aster told me she knows xe means it in all good faith before leaving. If xe noticed, xe didn’t say anything. Humphrey never complains about anything, but I know he likes everything better when it comes with some kind of sauce or gravy.

Rachel and Damien, the two who I didn’t know on my first day here, never leave each other’s side. Rachel can’t talk. The two of them offered to teach me sign language, surprised that I knew some _American_ sign language from school at home. Similar to Eden and Jaluha, one likes what the other doesn’t. _Unlike_ the twins, they swap food to match each other’s preferences rather than making a scene.

Haz is the only one without a roommate, and everything xe eats has a good amount of blood on it. Xe hasn’t said it, but with a little help in the kitchen xe has more time to make sure xe’s eating just as well as the rest of us.

Then there’s Uncle Kane, Jay, and Devon. They share a room in the corner of the first floor. Jay hasn’t been at a single meal since the first one I was here for. And Devon, I don’t think he would even say if he didn’t like something that Haz put on the table for him.

Uncle Kane’s a liar and claims to like something one day that he claims to hate the next. He doesn’t get along with Haz, and xe still hasn’t told me why. I haven’t really asked, though, so there’s that.

It’s starting to feel like home here, and I think that’s weirder than the magic. It’s not really the worst thing that could be happening, though.

No, the worst thing is that I’ve never been able to sleep the night before school starts or the night before a big trip. We’re going to Hogwarts—which is both—tomorrow and I haven’t been able to get more than a couple hours a night all week.

Maybe I should blame how awful I feel on that, but I can’t bring myself to.

Uncle Kane told me to leave my wand in its box until the morning we leave to ensure I don’t accidentally use magic when I’m not supposed to. Because of that, the resolve I found at Diagon Alley that I _do_ have magic has started to fade. I can’t take out the wand and search for that feeling again without the risk of breaking the law.

I hold the box on one knee now, the hope that it might reassure me still clinging to the edges of my mind. With it almost being five in the morning on the sixth day of such little sleep, I wouldn’t be surprised if it _did_ start talking to me. I know it would be a hallucination, but it might still help.

My back aches. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting like this. Eris swoops from her perch to land on my bed, and I run my hand down her back to remind myself the day at Diagon Alley last month really did happen.

She cocks her head at me, and I can’t help a smile.

I shake my head and set the wand to the side to replace it with the new journal and a pen. I’ve been writing notes about my textbooks in it. I’ve only done more than glance at three of them, though.

Some of the plants in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ , my gut clenches at the idea of being close enough to study. I don’t know if I want to be near a Venomous Tentacula. Devil’s Snare, maybe, but would they really have students handle a Mandrake when it might literally kill us?

On the other hand, I would murder to even get a glimpse of any number of the creatures in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. Dragons have always been _awesome_ , but knowing that they’re real? It adds a completely new layer of interest to everything I used to think was fake.

Then, there’s _Magical Draughts and Potions_.

I expressed interest in potions once, when Uncle Kane asked what classes I’m looking forward to at dinner, and I’m not going to do it again. Jaluha, Damien and Haz all say I’ll be fine in the class, but everyone else says that’s just because they are—or were, in Haz’s case—in Slytherin. They say the professor is cruel and unfair to everyone else.

Don’t even get me started on the knot in my gut over the different houses and where I might end up.

Haz was the first one to sit me down and actually go over the differences between the houses. Everyone else simply told me their opinions on the houses themselves. I think Kane was going to talk to me about it, but he’s getting busier and busier as the summer wears on.

And still, I don’t know what house I want to be in most.

Everyone has something different to say about each of the houses. Either Slytherin’s evil or a close-knit family. Hufflepuff’s full of idiots or kind and warm. Gryffindor’s full of arrogant prats or loyal friends. Ravenclaw’s stuck up or quick-witted.

Haz says that your house doesn’t matter nearly as much as how you treat the people in the other houses.

The alarm next to my bed cries and I snap my journal shut to turn it off. Six thirty, time to get to the kitchen. Eris croaks at me and flutters to the window. I let her out before I really start getting ready. I have one shoe on when a silvery bird flutters through the solid wood of my door. I stare at it, only blinking when it lands on my lampshade without shifting it at all.

It looks directly as me and says in Haz’s voice, “Bring your potions book.”

It vanishes, and I decide that it’s too early to get worked up. I’ll find out if I’m seeing things if Haz doesn’t expect me to have the book. Repeating that thought in my mind, I finish tying my shoes and retrieve _Magical Draughts and Potions_ from the shelf.

By the time I pad into the warm room, Haz already has several pans on the stove. On the kitchen island, a cauldron, a scale, a mortar and pestle, a knife, a cutting board, and a number of jars sit untouched. As always, xe doesn’t look up when I walk in.

“Find the recipe for the Sleeping Draught,” Xe says. “I’ll make sure you impress Snape when you get to Hogwarts.”

“I’m not supposed to use magic, though.” That doesn’t stop me from rifling through the pages of my textbook. Haz finally turns back and smiles.

“That’s why we’re making it together.”

I place the book on the table, open to the page on the Sleeping Draught. Haz points out the different ingredients and how I need to prepare each of them. Comparing the ingredient list with how much of each xe’s instructing me to make, we must be making a lot of this.

“Professor Snape won’t give you enough time to prepare your ingredients before starting the potion, but _I_ will.” Xe places xir hand on my head for an instant, then xe turns back to the stove. “Let me know when you have it all ready.”

The herbs add to the already mouthwatering aroma of the meal cooking behind me. Haz forbade me from tasting any of the ingredients, and I follow xir instructions. That doesn’t mean I’m not tempted.

It’s appreciated busy work. I just have to worry about myself and how many ounces of valerian root to chop or how many flobberworms it’ll take to get enough mucus for the potion. I thought juicing a worm would be gross, but it’s almost satisfying.

I pour the last of the powdered asphodel petals into a small jar when Haz jolts me out of my stupor.

“Wash your hands. Breakfast is ready.”

When I look up, xe’s already following the hovering pots back into the dining room. I hardly noticed time passing, but the piles of finished ingredients on the kitchen island when I slip off the stool bring a smile to my face. After breakfast, we can start the actual potion.

At the table, my hands still cold from washing, Haz actually explains what we’re making the potion for.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you haven’t been sleeping?” Xe reaches out to swipe xir thumb across the soft skin under my eye. “Anyway, you aren’t the only one that has trouble sleeping before school starts. It’ll turn your brain off for a little bit, let you rest.”

“Haz.”

We both look up to see Uncle Kane pinning xim with a look I can’t read. Xe returns it with a poisonous glare, and I turn the other way to talk to Jess instead.

“What’s that all about?” I whisper. I know Haz can hear me—xe can hear _everything_ —but xe’s a little busy with Kane.

Jess shrugs.

“I think dad’s jealous,” they murmur back, even quieter. “You spend so much time with Haz, you know?”

“That’s not it,” Haz cuts in, head cocked slightly in our direction. Xir eyes remain on Uncle Kane, but xe speaks much too low for him to hear. “Don’t worry yourselves over it, alright?”

We both nod slowly, but I’m not sure if xe can see that.

I scarf the rest of my food down and return to the kitchen to start washing the dishes Haz used to cook breakfast as soon as possible. I thought this place was better, no bubbling anger or tense silences, but this isn’t the first time I’ve been proven completely wrong about that.

At least there are more places to go here.

Haz stalks in with the dirty dishes wafting through the air behind xim. The weight of the air doesn’t change when xe walks in like I expect. Instead, xe hums and settles in front of the other basin to wash the dishes right along side me.

“Why doesn’t Kane like you?” I ask after a long silence.

Xe pauses to glance at me, then sighs.

“He doesn’t—” Xe clenches xir jaw and doubles the pressure xe scrubs a serving dish with. “He’s just infuriating, thinks he knows what’s best.”

“Oh.”

I have a feeling that having three parents can be hard.

We wash in silence for another few minutes.

“Why don’t you just use magic for this?” I let the plate I’m wiping down sink back into the water. “Cooking. Dishes. Whatever.”

Haz snorts.

“There are four people in this house that can use magic legally right now.” I almost interrupt, but xe shoots a mischievous look my way. “Jay doesn’t count, they’re never here.”

“But it would be easy, wouldn’t it?”

Xe nods.

“Oh, yeah. But tell me something.” Xe tilt xir head in my direction. Xe still scrubs the dishes. “What would you do if you didn’t have to wash the dishes after meals? If you hadn’t had a chance to volunteer yourself to cook with me?”

I think of the Wii in the front room. How Eden and Jaluha always end up getting to it before anyone else can. The DS my mom bought me as a going away present, untouched since it first lost battery power. I can charge it, but would I really use them if I had the chance? And what’s the point if I won’t be able to use it once I get to school?

What have I been doing for the past two months?

“Yeah.” Xe nods again. “You’d worry your damn head off and get complacent. That’s why we don’t go all out on magic for the chores.”

I pick the plate up and return to work without a word.

Together, it doesn’t take us much time to get everything done. Xe makes me leave to check on Eris, but I end up back in the kitchen after only twenty minutes of doting on the bird.

The potion is surprisingly easy to put together now that everything’s ready. Haz even goes so far as to send me away again while it simmers. We don’t have to start lunch for another half hour at least, not with the two of us working together.

I end up in the yard with Rachel and Damien, who demand that I prove I’ve been practicing on my own time. I haven’t been, not as much as I should, but the half-signed conversation doesn’t seem to disappoint either of them.

“It’s weird getting used to magic,” I say, then ask if it was for them with my hands.

Damien shrugs, but Rachel nods.

“Easier here than at Hogwarts,” she signs. “Being muggleborn is hard at first.”

“I was disowned for asking if she could stay with my family,” Damien jerks his head at Rachel as punctuation. He continues out loud, but in an aside toward me. “It sure as hell wasn’t being trans that made them turn her away.”

She smacks him, but laughs anyway.

“Be careful who you admit your heritage to,” she warns me.

I poise my hands to respond, but I can’t think of anything to say. It’s not the first time someone’s said something about muggleborns being treated badly in the wizarding world. I didn’t realize that it could turn families against their own children. Just for having a friend?

I don’t apologize, I know that doesn’t help, so I smile instead.

“Does it get better?”

Rachel weighs her hands together. Damien jabs me in the ribs with a playful elbow. His mischievous grin eases some of my concerns.

“Just make sure you’re better than them. Everyone’ll shut the hell up if they know you could take ‘em in a duel.”

Rachel smacks him again. While he’s complaining right in my ear that he’s right, she looks right at me. Her hands move more deliberately than I’m used to.

“This house is made to be accepting. Hogwarts is not.”

That night, after a long phone call with mommy, I have everything packed, a vial of Sleeping Draught on the side table next to my bed, and another few nights worth in my trunk in case I ever need it. I stroke Eris’s feathers while she pokes at my hair with her beak. She soothes my still-frayed nerves.

I don’t want to pile back into the car with everyone else going to Hogwarts in the morning. I don’t want to hear everyone go on about the houses or the food. I just want to get there and find out what I’m going to be labelled as for seven years. Will I be in the dungeons or a tower? Which one, either way?

The entire problem is the talking about it.

Maybe I should leave a note and find King’s Cross Station on my own? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done that. I know I could do it.

I look up at the only picture frame I left on the shelf. I’m gonna put it in the trunk before I leave, I just didn’t want everything to be away tonight. My sister and I smile from the frame, mommy stands behind us both in a hug.

I wonder when I’ll be able to go to Crater Lake again?

I shake my head and haul myself off the bed. Instead of leaving her again, I slip on a long leather glove I got at the pet store and prompt Eris to move from the bed to my arm. She does, I reorient my balance to make up for her weight, and take her with me when I go to visit a room I’ve never actually been to before. It’s on the second floor, between Gray’s room and the twins.

Haz opens the door before I even knock.

Xe still looks surprised to see me, though I have a feeling xe could hear me before I even reached this floor.

“Sawyer? What is it?”

Xe glances up and down the hall, as if I’m here to flee from someone or something. I pull my arm closer to me, to which she shifts her wings.

“Could you take me to King’s Cross tomorrow?” I ask. I can’t believe how small my voice is.

Xe doesn’t answer immediately, so I start again.

“I don’t want to hear anyone else tell me it doesn’t matter what house I go into, you know? Or—or, I don’t know.” I look away. “I don’t want to hear anyone say it’s okay until after I know.”

Xe rests a hand on the top of my head, and I turn my eyes on xim again. Xe half-kneels in front of me, xir smile so comforting after all the circles my brain has been walking today. I’m scared, for a second, that xe’ll say ‘it’s okay.’

“I understand,” xe says instead, and I let myself relax. “Kane might complain, but I’ll do it. We’ll get there a little early, maybe nine. I assume that’s not a problem?”

I nod vigorously. That comforting smile morphs into xir grin that grows less and less rare the more time I spend with xim. I lean forward and press my forehead into xir shoulder because I can’t hug them properly with a raven on my arm.

Xe gets it, though, and wraps xir arms around me. Xir skin is ice against mine, but I don’t mind. That’s just how xe are.

Xe might not be my sibling by blood—and god, do I miss my sister—but I’m shocked at how much like family xe feels after only a couple of months. I wish I’d met xim sooner, that I’d had a chance to get to know xim before all of the magic and the fear.

“Thank you.” I press my forehead down harder, and xe responds with a squeeze. Eris shrieks from her perch. I shift to see Haz’s shoulder barely nudging her claws.

We both laugh, and Haz lets go. Xe keeps a hand on my arm for a second, though.

“Of course.” Xe stands in one fluid motion and backs into xir room. “Get some rest. Gotta get up in time to help me with one more breakfast, right?”

I nod, finally beaming again, and wait for xim to close the door before turning back for the stairs. I have a potion full of sleep waiting for me.


	6. The Hogwarts Express

My dreams are amorphous and foggy. All I remember are a pair of eyes that look a lot like my own, but definitely aren’t. The confusion of the dream gives way to crystal clarity when my alarm goes off, though.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt this energized.

Eris is already out scrounging for food when I vault out of bed. I stop to fill her water and drop a handful of peanuts in a bowl next to her perch before snatching the last outfit not in my trunk and dressing as fast as I can. My journal, _Magical Draughts and Potions_ , _A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration_ , a bag of parchment, pens, quills, white-out, and ink, and my school robes go into my backpack instead.

I leave a still-unused cage, the smaller trunk Eris’s things go in, and the box holding my wand on the bed. We still have a couple hours before we leave, so I can’t pack Eris’s stuff for a while.

I’m not looking forward to convincing her to get in that cage.

If just one great night of sleep has this kind of change on my mood, I’ll have to make a point to sleep more. After a week of worrying, I’m actually excited to leave. I’ve always liked road trips, and this is a _train_ to a place I’ve never seen before.

I’ll be living in a _castle_ for nine months!

I almost don’t notice the hushed voices in time to keep myself from rounding the corner out of the stairwell. I stand stock still. I heard Kane and Haz arguing once before, but they were _screaming_ then.

They have to be right on the other side of the wall and I can barely hear them.

“I never said you can’t be their friend.”

“Not outright!” Haz hisses. “How many times did you think about giving them chores that would keep them out of the kitchen?”

“I d—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

They fall silent for a short stretch of time.

“Were you behind the strike at Gringotts?” Kane starts again.

_What?_

I cover my mouth when I can’t hold back a sharp intake of breath. I want to know what they’re always arguing about. I only ever hear the ends of their conversations, but this is new.

“No,” xe says eventually. “I helped. The goblins should be able to—”

“Haz,” Kane cuts in with further purpose. “Don’t give the Ministry a reason to make your life harder.”

“What does it matter?” Xir whisper finally raises a fraction. “Why not do what I can when I can? With bigots like Umbridge climbing the ranks, how long do you think I have to even do this much?”

“If they find out you’re stirring up trouble—”

“Not every battle can be fought with letters and speeches,” xe says. Even the words feel like a physical blow, though I can’t see Uncle Kane’s reaction. “If the alternative is sitting here and waiting for the Ministry to turn against halfbreeds—"

“Don’t call yourself that.”

Xe just raises xir voice.

“—I’ll take the risk of turning them against _me_ first.”

“Don’t _say_ that.”

Xe snorts.

“If you can’t handle me taking the initiative, I’ll find somewhere else to stay.” Haz keeps talking right over whatever Kane tries to respond with. “I know you don’t want Sawyer to know this crap, so you’d better let it go.”

There’s a knock on the wall directly next to my head.

My uncle sputters, but doesn’t argue further. Footsteps sound and I half expect him to find me and scold me for eavesdropping. Instead, Haz calls out again to halt the steps.

“You should know. If I end up leaving, I’m taking them with me if they show any sign of wanting me to.”

“You’d resort to kidnapping?”

Xe laughs, but I don’t hear any humor in it.

“You know, you’re turning into everything you hate. I know what you’ve been telling Dumbledore.” Xe says something else, but even with my ear pressed against the wall I don’t understand. “They’d be far safer with me than you.”

I hold my breath.

A door closes and Haz rounds the corner to greet me with a tight smile.

“We’ll go right after breakfast, alright?”

It takes a few minutes, but we fall back into our comfortable silence while we cook. I’m terrified to ask about anything I heard. To ask why the Ministry might turn against xim. What my uncle has been telling the headmaster.

Xe doesn’t bring it up either, and I’m shocked to find Uncle Kane absent from breakfast. Haz calls everyone down instead, reminds them all to have everything packed by nine thirty, and that Devon will take everyone going to Hogwarts to King’s Cross. For the first time, xir stress is readily apparent in xir voice during these announcements.

Xe helps me get everything ready for Eris, and xir mood only sours as time goes on. When she doesn’t come back xe assures me she’s likely on her way to Hogwarts now. My trunk hovers between us while I follow xim down the stairs with my backpack, Eris’s empty cage, and her belongings. My wand finally rests in my pocket without a box to hide it away.

Jess cries when I go back to say goodbye. I’ll see almost everyone else on the train or at Hogwarts, but I won’t see them until I come here again. I’d be lying if I said I’m not crying a little by the time I leave, too.

The air in the car chokes the good mood I started the day with. Haz glares out the windshield and I don’t dare speak.

After a few minutes on the road, xe sighs.

“Sometimes eavesdropping is the only way to find out what you want to know,” xe says. “Your uncle should be used to that trick from me by now.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

I know it comes out as defensive. I know that. I do that too much, far too much, for me not to realize it when it happens.

Still, xe only nudges my with xir shoulder.

“You’re a good kid and you’re too young to be good at being alone.”

Good at being alone.

The thought makes me wonder what everyone at school back home will think happened to me. I didn’t really have anyone to tell that I was leaving. Until we found out, my sister and I never even spent much time together. Wasn’t I going to try finding King’s Cross by myself?

“What happened at Gringotts?” I ask, instead. Maybe xe’ll actually tell me something now that I’ve overheard a little bit.

“Oh.” Xe taps the steering wheel and flashes me a smile. “I may have brought up the idea that the goblins deserve better treatment and that closing the bank for a day might make the Ministry pay attention.”

Xe pauses.

“And used most of my savings to make sure the Gringotts goblins didn’t lose a full day’s pay.”

“And Uncle Kane’s worried you might get in trouble.”

Xe snorts as they turn into the train station.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll let you know when you should start worrying about me.”

When we get out of the car, xe runs off to get a cart. Xe calls it a trolley, but it’s a cart. I’ll deal with cars being the wrong way and everyone calling stores shops, but I have to put my foot down somewhere.

On the walk in, xe promises to get me a subscription to the Daily Prophet as long as I swear to write them regularly. I’ve never been interested in reading newspapers, but at least I’ll know if Haz is arrested or something similar.

We stop in the middle of platform nine and I frown. Up ahead, I see platform ten.

There is no platform nine-and-three-quarters.

“Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

Haz clasps my hand and tugs me forward with the cart rattling in front of us. I peek around the cart to see the barrier between platforms nine and ten looming just up ahead.

“Uh—”

“The platform is through the barrier,” xe clarifies cheerily.

We keep the pace, as if we’re in no hurry at all. I close my eyes as we get closer, but instead of running into anything, the sound of the crowded station vanishes.

Haz stops, and I open my eyes.

This platform is empty, more or less. A few tired parents speak to their children in hushed whispers. Other than that, we’re alone with the massive, polished red train dubbed the ‘Hogwarts Express’ by a sign hanging not too far away.

Behind us, a metal arch sits innocently.

Haz lets go of my hand and angles the cart closer to the train.

“Do you want me to stay?”

I look up to find xim resting xir hand nervously on the cart’s handles. Xe chews xir bottom lip with xir eyes on the train. I can’t tell if xe’s more nervous that I’ll say no or that I’ll say yes.

I reach into my pocket to brush the handle of my wand and shake my head.

“Can you help me find a place to put my things? Then I’ll be good.”

So, xe does.

When we find a good place near the back of the train. Xe helps me drag everything on board. When I’m satisfied with everything’s placement, I hop off the train to say goodbye.

Haz stoops down to my level and drops a hand on the top of my head. I think xe might ruffle my hair, but xe doesn’t. Xe just looks at me, and I think we’re both waiting for the other to actually say something first.

So I rock forward to wrap my arms around xir neck in the tightest hug I can. Xe freezes at first, then hugs me just as tightly.

“Right when you get to your common room—no matter where it ends up being—send me an owl,” xe murmurs. “You’ll know someone there, no matter where you end up.”

I nod instead of saying anything. I didn’t think I would cry saying goodbye to Haz. I don’t know why, but I thought it would be like getting on the plane to leave home. I was excited, even if I was nervous, and I could call my mom and sister every night.

I’m _excited_.

But wizards don’t have phones. There won’t be phones at Hogwarts.

Xe lets go and my breath comes out in a shudder. This time, xe does ruffle my hair before standing.

“Good luck, Sawyer.”

I nod again.

And xe’s gone.

I climb back onto the train and change into my robes just for something to do.

There’s another hour and a half until the train is supposed to leave, so I settle down into my seat with _A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration_ , my journal, and my wand. At first, I don’t even open the book. I study the wand in a way I was too nervous to in Ollivander’s. Barely-there designs wind from the tip to the handle to join in a thicker, more defined pattern of a rope wrapped tightly around the wood.

It’s all wood, of course, but even with how smooth the wand _feels_ , the illusion is incredible.

I wave the wand experimentally.

Though I don’t see anything come out the end, I definitely feel a change in the quality of the compartment’s air. It’s warmer, dryer. I smile, the tangible proof of magic easing a number of my worries. So, I flip the transfiguration textbook open and start at the beginning.

The first time the compartment door opens, I manage to get my wand put away in time to keep the intruder from catching me practicing. The last thing I want is to be asked to show someone else my attempts at magic.

The boy pauses in the doorway. He asks if he can sit here, and I’m too nervous to say no. He asks my name, gives me his when I tell him, and the conversation dies. So, I’m done doing magic for a little bit. I can still read the textbook.

Within half an hour, the compartment sits full and boisterous, and I can’t focus on my book. I stare at one word, trying to force my brain to recognize it, and wish that the others would be _quiet_. No one hears the plea, obviously—they wouldn’t even if I had said it aloud—so I snap the book shut just as we’re pulling out of the station. There’s no point in reading my textbooks if I won’t even remember them. At least I have the countryside to look at.

The door to the compartment slides open, and the others turn in unison. A boy stands in the doorway, likely another first-year based on the wave of welcome calls though the room.

“Did you hear, Harry Potter’s on the train!”

Mutters dance along the seats around me, and I know better than to voice the question on the tip of my tongue. If I listen, I’m sure someone will tell me who the hell Harry Potter is. He must be a big deal for everyone to be this _excited_ , though.

“Yeah, he would be our age, wouldn’t he?”

_“What does he look like?”_

“Dunno, everyone’s talking about it, though.”

“Does he really have—”

“The scar?”

“ _I don’t know_ , I didn’t see him!”

“What are you good for, then?”

Everyone bursts into laughter, and conversation splits into several groups discussing him like some kind of alien creature. I don’t mind, that gives me more chances to actually hear something useful. If I can’t read, I might as well learn _something_ new, so I stare out at the dwindling edges of the city and listen.

“My parents went to school with _his_ parents. His dad was a Quidditch _god_ ,” says a blonde girl next to the door.

“I heard was a prat, though,” a boy next to her pitches in.

“If you’re that good on a broom, you can get away with it.”

I grimace.

Sports and heights mixed together. Amazing.

“Don’t be stupid,” another boy says a bit closer to me. “Did you think he _wasn’t_ coming to Hogwarts?”

“No, that’s not it, I just—”

“Man, he’s gotta be some kind of prodigy.”

“What do you think, Perry?”

I jerk around to find all eyes on me. The boy that tried talking to me in the beginning grins, and I wonder if he _knows_ or if he’s genuinely asking.

Either way, my face grows hot while I fumble for words.

“Oh, um.” I pick at the cover of the book in my lap, trying not to focus on any of the other students. “I don’t know much about it. We—”

Several voices rise in response, but the blonde next to the door shushes them and turns her eyes on me again. Apparently, the bookworm in the corner is worth shutting up for after all.

It might just be the accent, though, so I go for the easier explanation.

“I just moved from the U.S. a few weeks before I got my letter, so…” I surprise myself with a what feels like an incredibly _weak_ smile and a laugh. “I bet there’s a lot I don’t know.”

And the floodgates open, too many questions for me to answer out loud.

“Did you get a letter to Ilvermorny, too?”

God, no.

“Where from? I’ve got an aunt in North Dakota…”

Yes, because I know every person in the entire United States of America.

“So, you’re _basically_ a transfer student! Cool!”

If you say so.

And more variations of the same. Eventually, one wins out over the others.

“But Harry Potter’s—well, he’s _Harry Potter_. How do you ‘not know much’ about him?” the first boy, whose name vanished the second he told me, asks. Others nod and try to add more, but I shrug.

The conversation has turned back to Harry and what kind of person he might be. I turn back to the window and press my forehead against the cool glass. In the fuss of that revelation, we must have left London. I couldn’t even begin to figure out where we are anymore.

I can’t go back. No matter how strange this all is, whether I _belong_ here or not, I’m on my way to the castle now.

Something about that is comforting.

The ride ends up being kind of fun, actually. I alternate between listening to theories about the year to come and answering questions about America. I try to be as vague as possible in an attempt to keep people from guessing that I didn’t grow up surrounded by magic.

I’m listening in on conversations when the door slams open again. I jolt hard enough to crack my forehead against the glass. No one says anything or even looks at me when I look back.

A boy with sandy hair and a drawn grimace holds the door open, bracing himself on the doorway. A short girl with bushy hair stands to his side, swaying in the movement of the train.

“Has anyone here seen a toad?”

_He’s American._

We all shake our heads again, and he sighs.

“If you do, bring it a few compartments over.” He gestures off to the side, door already half shut.

It’s as good an out as anything else.

I rise from my seat and leave the textbook in my place. A few of the others murmur complaints, but I slip past and push my hand into the gap to nudge the door open again.

Both members of the search party pause to look back at me while I stumble the rest of the way out of the compartment, and it takes me a moment to actually put the words in the right order so I can say them.

“I’ll help you look,” I manage to say, snapping the door closed harder than I mean to.

The boy grins and signals the girl to move on. She does, waving excitedly at me before bounding down the hall to knock on another door. He holds out a hand, which I instinctively take.

“Welcome to the Trevor Retrieval Squad. I’m Connor.”

“I’m J—” I catch myself before I can ruin things. Uncle Kane made sure I don’t have to. No one has to know that I ever even _had_ a different name, I’d be so mad if I messed it up before I even get there. “Sawyer. I’m Sawyer.”

His smile broadens, and he lets go of my hand to follow the girl to another open door.

“Might get a little confusing: That’s what everyone calls me.”

In our search, I find out that Connor Sawyer’s a second year and he has a twin brother. Jordan’s with the owner of the toad on the other end of the train.

Hermione Granger, the girl with the curly hair, is a first year like me. She’s probably more excited to be here than I am, and it actually brings up my morale. I’m about to ask her how she got roped into looking for a toad when someone shrieks through one of the compartment doors and three boys burst into the corridor in the middle of our group.

“What—”

Connor grabs a handful of my robes to pull me out of the way in time to _not_ be trampled by them.

“What has been going on?” Hermione demands, pushing her way into the compartment.

I edge closer as well, worried about further stampedes, but all I find in the room are a redheaded boy and a scrawny boy in glasses staring at an unconscious rat. Hermione scolds them for fighting, and the redhead looks up indignantly. I miss what he says, though, because I catch sight of a scar peeking through a mess of hair on the other boy’s forehead. What was it the others in my compartment had said? Like lightning?

He meets my eyes, and his expression switches from annoyed to resigned. I try to channel my inner Haz when I shift to aim my smile at the both of them.

“See you at the castle, then!” I say before snapping the door shut in the middle of Hermione pointing out the dirt on the redhead's nose.

“Hey!” She turns to face me, and I shrug.

“We should _all_ probably get ready,” I explain. “I still need to get my bag together.”

Hermione narrows her eyes, but ends up with a smile and a nod.

By the time I find my way back to my compartment, we’ve been given a five minute warning and the corridors have filled with students.

I gather my things and shove my backpack up with my trunk before joining the throng of students on the way out of the train. In this crowd, I have to count to ten with both my thoughts and my hands to keep from panicking. I alternate between ASL and BSL to keep my brain from getting away from me.

I’m soon distracted, however, by a massive man calling for first years to follow him. I push through the taller students trying to go the opposite way, catching sight of Connor and the nearly identical boy that must be his brother when they pass. I catch up with the man and the smaller gaggle of first years surrounding him when a glass-smooth lake comes into sight around a corner.

I stop at the back of the group, breathless. Then my gaze slides up to really see Hogwarts for the first time.

No one was lying when they described the school as a castle. Towers rise against the night sky, the lights from the many windows showing just how far away it is to twinkle like that. I still can’t take my eyes off it when I stumble after the group into a number of tiny boats.

I end up in a boat with Humphrey and a group that I vaguely recognize from my compartment of the train. The boats move forward at the large man’s command, and I finally tear my gaze from the castle to turn to Humphrey.

His grin must be a mirror of mine. He touches my forehead, and I wonder just how widespread Eden has gotten that gesture. Far enough that I reach out to do the same to him, at least.

We’re here.


	7. Proof

Upon arriving at the castle, a particularly stern witch greets us at the door. I focus on her, if only to keep from focusing on the acid that seems to have replaced my blood. Our guide refers to her as Professor McGonagall, so at least I know what to call her.

I follow at the back of the group, unable to really take in my surroundings. The train was cool, the lake was cool, but I don’t know how much more I can take on just one night of sleep. I know everything’s stone, the castle is warm, and everyone’s being too loud.

That’s about it.

Professor McGonagall leads us to a small room that’s blessedly quiet compared to the entrance hall. When the group constricts—strength in numbers?—I shuffle closer to everyone else as well.

I keep my hands moving while the professor explains the houses and the Sorting Ceremony. I’ll have to thank Rachel and Damien when I see them: I don’t think I would actually be able to focus on anything she’s saying if they haven’t been teaching me sign language.

The rest of the first years immediately jump on theorizing what the Sorting actually is when she leaves. My heart clenches in my chest, and I take a step back from the group at large.

I don’t want to hear any of this.

“It’s just a hat.”

I jerk up to find Humphrey’s muddy green eyes leveled with mine. I stare at him while my brain lags in the act of putting his words in an order that make sense. In the meantime, he smiles and leans closer to make sure the others don’t hear him.

“Damien told me.” He puts a hand over his mouth to cover a laugh. “It’s supposed to be a secret, but we just have to try on a hat. Kane was so mad when he found out he’d told us.”

I open my mouth to say something—what, I don’t know—when the rest of the chatter in the room cuts off in favor of shocked muttering. I look up and I’m gonna write a three page letter to my sister to tell her I _knew_ that ghosts are real.

I try not to stare at the mob of silvery figures floating through the crowd, even after they acknowledge the presence of our group. In one of my covert glances at them, though, I find a pair of narrowed eyes leveled in my direction. There’s no proof the ghost is looking at me, but there’s no proof they _aren’t_ , either.

Professor McGonagall pushes back into the room before I get a chance to say anything to Humphrey about it. My heart lodges itself in my throat when she beckons the whole group out of the room. I don’t think I could say much of anything at this rate.

We follow her back into the noisy hall and through a door into an even _louder_ room. Humphrey tells me, under his breath as we walk, that it’s the Great Hall. Hermione, somewhere ahead, explains that the ceiling is made to look like the real sky through magic.

I look up and I wonder if these stars match up with the real constellations outside.

We’re instructed to line up in a stretch of blank floor between a long table seating (what must be) our teachers and four similar tables holding the rest of the school. The entire school gets to watch us be Sorted?

Great.

By the time I manage to stop staring at the ceiling, the professors, or the sea of students before us, a stool and a ratty old hat have been set up in front of our line. I would like to say I’m not surprised when its seam splits and it breaks out into song, but I’m kind of burnt out when it comes to shock and awe at this point.

Still, I join in with the rest of the hall in applause upon the song’s completion.

Moments later, Professor McGonagall begins calling students up by last name.

One by one, students are sorted into their houses. Some of them look as terrified as I feel, others seem as cool as cucumbers. Then again, moments before the first name is called (Alabaster, Humphrey), he asks me how I could be so calm.

We only have to wait a handful of seconds, in which Humphrey’s nervous grimace becomes a winsome grin, before the hat calls out: “HUFFLEPUFF!”

Everyone from the house, regardless of their _school_ house, cheers for him when he hops up from the stool and goes to join the Hufflepuff table. Eden jumps up from the table to catch him in a crushing hug before sitting Humphrey (smiling so wide it looks painful) down next to him. Connor sits on the new Hufflepuff’s other side, just as enthusiastic to have him there as Eden.

No matter where I end up, I’ll have someone I know.

Rachel and Gray in Ravenclaw. Jaluha and Damien in Slytherin. Aster and Jackson in Gryffindor. Eden and, now, Humphrey in Hufflepuff. Then there’s Connor in Hufflepuff (apparently), his brother across the table from Aster in Gryffindor, and Hermione who is sorted into Gryffindor not much later. That’s at least two everywhere.

Based on the negative reactions of the other three houses whenever someone goes over to the Slytherin table, I’m guessing they aren’t well-liked. After spending so much time with Haz, Jaluha, and Damien, though, I don’t see why.

“Perry, Sawyer!”

I jerk upright and out of my own head. I manage to only stare at the professor for a few seconds before stepping out of line and taking the hat. It’s soft and worn, though definitely dirty. I gaze at it, feel the energy under my fingertips, then take a seat on the stool and let the hat fall over my eyes.

The hat hums and it takes me a moment to distinguish its words from my own thoughts.

“Interesting. Very far from home, eh?” It doesn’t wait for an answer from me. “That certainly is some talent you have stewing in here. So determined to— _oh._ ”

The echo of Damien’s words, having been playing in my head since I decided to hide my heritage, loops once again.

_Everyone’ll shut the hell up if they know you could take ‘em in a duel._

The hat doesn’t hesitate.

“SLYTHERIN.”

As I’m lifting the hat from my head, I hear a soft “good luck with that” beneath the chatter and applause from the Slytherin table. I drop the hat back on the stool with a subtle pat against its brim.

At the table, a few of those already seated mutter congratulations as I pass. The seat I find between Damien and Jaluha gives me a front row seat to one of the ghosts I saw earlier. Covered in a brighter silver that could only be blood, the ghost keeps his dull eyes trained on the Sorting.

When Harry Potter’s name is called, the room takes a collective breath before the low buzz of chatter splinters the suspense of the ceremony. The scrawny boy with the scar moves forward, wound tight as a spring, and places the hat on his head.

“He’s an idiot.” A blond boy—Draco, if I’m remembering right—next to the bloody ghost turns to the table at large. “Would rather slum it with the _Weasleys_ than do what’s good for him.”

I exchange a glance with Jaluha.

Uncle Kane sometimes mentions other wizards, people he works with in the Ministry, during dinner. He only has good things to say about the Weasleys, and Damien’s barely-concealed glare tells me there’s no reason to think the blond’s spite is warranted.

I jolt when the Sorting Hat announces that Harry’s a Gryffindor. Three out of four tables in the hall groan rather than clapping while the Gryffindor table may as well throw a party here and now. He looks happy to be there.

“See?”

I turn cold eyes on Draco.

“Sounds like you’re jealous. Harry Potter didn’t want to be your friend?” Jaluha elbows me, but I ignore them. “Try being less of an asshole.”

Damien nudges me, too, but with a much different intent. He really shouldn’t be encouraging me, but his support is much better than Jaluha’s warning.

Still, the venom in the boy’s glare gives me pause. Two large boys sitting to one side of him turn a glare on me as well. As long as they stay on that side of the table, I think I’ll be fine. The fact that the three of them could destroy me in a fight reminds me that it’s possible to think things and not say them.

“Perry, is it?” I bristle at his sneer. “I can’t say I’ve heard of your family.”

Thank god I bought those books on PNW wizards. Otherwise, I doubt I’d be able to bullshit such a confident eye roll. Or a confident lie.

“My family’s all the way out in the U.S.—Oregon and Arizona mostly—might be a little out of your frame of reference.” I smile when Damien snorts and the boy visibly hesitates. “We do things a little differently out there.”

He turns away when the last first year leaves the front of the room to join our table. He shoots another glare over his shoulder.

“Watch your back, _Perry_. You’re a long way from home.”

I can tell it’s supposed to be intimidating—and I’ll probably _be_ intimidated when I have a chance to process today—but for now I recognize it was a win on my end. I catch a wink from Damien, but Jaluha looks distinctly disappointed in me.

“Don’t go picking fights on your first day,” they hiss while a man with a very long, very white beard rises from the table at the head of the room.

He says some nonsense in a remarkably kind way, but before I have much time to think about it Damien punches my arm. Not too hard, but enough to make my shoulder sore.

“That’s Dumbledore for you. Just wait. If you thought the food at the house was g— _ha_!”

I jump a little when he lunges forward. Then, when I see what he’s after, I nearly weep. Food.

I don’t know what half of the crap I put on my plate is, but every single morsel is _delicious_. I’d feel like a traitor if I said it was better than Haz’s food, but it certainly could be the best meal I’ve ever had.

I listen to the buzz and chatter around me. Damien prattles on about the school. The ghost—who I find out is the Bloody Baron—discusses the way the school has changed with an older student. Draco keeps his mouth shut about Harry Potter, but shoots me regular glares throughout the meal.

Personally, I’m too busy stuffing my face to say a single word. I’m ready to finish eating and write that letter before heading to bed. I’m ready to _sleep_ , especially if what a boy—he calls himself a prefect—down the table says about classes beginning tomorrow is true.

Just as desserts are starting to appear on the golden tables, Humphrey appears at my shoulder. Several Slytherins look up and give me a strange look, but it’s mostly other first years.

We share warm congratulations with each other, but I have a feeling he’s antsy to get back to his own table. Between the new dishes available and the other students looking at him like _that_ , I wouldn’t want to stay long either.

“I’m supposed to remind you to actually send your letters home tomorrow,” he reports. “And to remember your parents when you decide who to write to.”

I frown and take a bite of cake.

“You came all the way over here to tell me that? I was gonna, anyway.”

He grins gives me a much lighter punch on the shoulder than Damien did.

“Eden told me to tell you that badgers eat snakes for breakfast.”

“Tell _Eden_ ,” Jaluha cuts in smoothly. “If he drags Sawyer into our competition, he’d better find a way to remove a permanent-stick charm from his tongue.”

“One,” Humphrey volleys back. “Kane would _murder_ you if you did that. Two, there’s no way you can work a permanent-stick charm.”

They actually turn to face him this time, and their expression remains unreadable in the silent moments before they turn back and continue eating. Humphrey and I exchange a glance and he excuses himself. Whether he’ll deliver their message or not, I’m unsure.

I stick to the desserts that I recognize. Chocolate cakes, cookies, a few brownies. There are some weird dishes on the plates, but I’m sure I’ll have a chance to try them on another day. I want _something_ to be familiar right now.

The food vanishes as quickly as it appeared, and the headmaster calls for our attention once again. I don’t know why they would need to clarify that we aren’t allowed in the Forbidden Forest—it’s in the name—and the caretaker sounds like a wet blanket. I might go watch the Quidditch trials, if only to find out what Quidditch actually is.

“This year, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

I stare at the man, who stops to wait while the hall descends into nervous chatter. His expression doesn’t move from an understated smile. He doesn’t seem to have any concerns about needing to issue such a warning.

I wonder what could have happened?

Before I can ask Damien or Jaluha about it, Dumbledore calls for us all to sing the school song. I panic for a second until he puts the words in the air. I end up just muttering the words under my breath in time with Damien’s raucous rendition of it, but no one comments.

The hall buzzes with chatter as people start to leave and, to my surprise, Damien stands to call first years to him. I hadn’t noticed the badge on his chest engraved with a large ‘P.’ He actually gets serious long enough for another student to join him in front of the group.

“Alright, kiddos.” She lifts a hand to quiet everyone down. “I’m Karen, this is Damien. We’re your fifth year prefects.”

“Basically, listen to us and you won’t have a hard time around here,” Damien adds. “We’ll show you down to our common room.”

They turn as one and I follow along with the other nine new Slytherins.

“So, Perry.” I look up to find one of the girls—Tracey, I think—leaning close to me. “You know our prefect?”

I look up at Damien, who looks back and gives me a thumbs up.

“He’s my cousin.”

“I bet you’ll get away with a lot, then.”

I surprise myself by laughing. “I have a feeling he lets everyone get away with a lot.”

“Hey, watch it,” Damien calls as we start down a dark set of stairs.

I stick my tongue out at him even though he isn’t looking.

Haz told me about the dungeons. That it’s where both the Hufflepuff and Slytherin common rooms are. That they learned how to cook from the house elves (“God knows my dad didn’t teach me. And the elves’ll do anything if you ask.”) in the kitchens behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. That Slytherin’s can be slimy if you get on the wrong side of them. I guess that says something about both of us now, doesn’t it? About Haz, about me, about Damien and Jaluha and all of the others that got sorted here.

Damien and Karen stop in the middle of the corridor and face a blank wall. I’m lucky I ended up near the front with Tracey, because I’m one of the shorter people here and would rather not miss this.

“ _Serpentipedi gloria._ ”

At Damien’s words, the wall of the dungeon shimmers. Then it reveals another hall, which we’re led through once again.

Something in the back of my head says I should probably be more interested in the common room. It has a distinctly green feeling, at least, which reminds me of home for stupid reasons. There was a fish ladder, and this whole place has the same watery feeling to it.

When Karen gives directions to the girls’ dormitories and the boys’ dormitories, I frown. I forget about the green lanterns, I ignore the wide ‘window’ giving a look into the lake, I disregard the oh-so-comfortable chairs surrounding a roaring fireplace. I don’t know how to articulate it exactly, so I don’t say anything.

I thought the whole point of coming here was to have my gender acknowledged.

Damien nudges me. I didn’t notice him get close enough for that, but I must be showing my irritation fairly clearly. He doesn’t quite look worried, but the clench of his jaw tells me his smile isn’t as easy as it usually is.

“‘Better’ isn’t ‘perfect.”

I try not to hunch down while I nod. “I know.”

“Get some rest. Classes start at eight.”

That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard.

I join the girls in our dormitory to find all four of them crowded and cooing around one of the beds. I creep up behind them. Eris sits in the middle of my bed with a large cat loafed next to her. She preens the cat, who purrs and, before my eyes, flops onto its side.

Also, I notice fairly quickly that my trunk and my bags sit at the end of this bed.

“Uh.”

Everyone turns to me with softer gazes that I would expect. The first to move is one of the tallest girl, but she just scoops up the cat with a smile. My memory calls up the name Millicent, which is helpful. Eris calls out and hops to her feet, obviously annoyed.

“This must be your bed,” she says. It sounds like an apology, even though it’s not. “I’ll try to keep Striker off it.”

“That’s fine!” I surge forward through the others to actually get to my trunk. I don’t want to evict them without a reason. “I’m just exhausted.”

“What’s its name?” one of the girls asks. I think her name was Pansy.

I look up from digging for pajamas to see her hand held out as if to touch Eris. Both Tracey and Daphne (I think?) hesitate, then do the same. She cocks her head, assesses them, then hops closer for a closer look.

“Eris.”

Although, I don’t know why she’s _here_. I thought there was a place for birds to be. I’m glad she’s here, but it’s weird. The girls all seem to like her, so there’s no harm done.

I give them a bag of shelled peanuts to offer her so they don’t write her off as boring. I’d hate that, and I’m sure she would too.

I let them fawn over her while I change. While I write my letters and brush my teeth. I answer more shallow questions about America and Oregon when they go to do the same. Any questions about the magical community there, I answer vaguely as if describing a book.

They swallow it. Every sidestep, every regurgitated line I spit out, they listen to and return their own stories. I’m left feeling as though I haven’t lied at all by the time I drift to sleep.


	8. A False Prodigy

I wake with a churning in my gut on top of gasping for breath. The latter is normal, expected, and it only lasts a few seconds at most. The former sticks with me all day.

Eris helps for a while. I slip on a glove so she can come with me when I leave. In the dorm, she preens my hair after I brush it. She calls loudly at anyone who gets too close to me once I leave.

In the Great Hall, though?

Eris happily takes the bits of fruit and egg I offer her from her honored place on my shoulder. I, on the other hand, can’t bring myself to eat more than a few bites of toast before Professor Snape passes by with our schedules. He pauses next to me and peers at the parchment in his hand.

I do my best not to shrink under the gaze he then levels at me.

“Someone certainly thinks you’re special, Perry,” he says softly. He hands over my schedule and shoots a look at Eris. He doesn’t say anything before he moves on, but nothing about the exchange could be called friendly.

I scratch Eris's head, then encourage her to fly out. She deserves a day to explore the grounds. I’m sure there are plenty of worms for her to dig up out there.

I turn back to my plate and scan the schedule to find what could be wrong with it. Today I have Charms, Divination, and Herbology. A quick glance to my left and right, Pansy and Tracey respectively, tells me they don’t have Divination anywhere on their schedules.

Or Arithmancy, later this week?

And they both have double Transfiguration on Thursdays with the Ravenclaws. I have it on Tuesdays and Thursdays, not doubled up, but with the Gryffindors? I keep staring at the schedule until after the food disappears from the golden plates. I hardly care, my appetite has fled.

“Whoa, that can’t be right.”

I jolt and swing around to find Damien stooped down to look over my shoulder.

He holds his hand out for my schedule, and I let him take it. He scans it and shakes his head.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t be taking these classes.” He starts to back away. “You go on ahead to Charms. I’ll find you after I talk to Snape about this.”

And he leaves with my schedule.

So, I follow the other first year Slytherins to Charms. I hope he’ll find me right after this class, because I have no idea what time I’m supposed to be at my next one or where it is. I also hope he gets the extra classes taken off my schedule or I might die.

Our first Charms class would be boring—reading a textbook and discussing basic magical theory—if the whole concept of magic wasn’t so mind-boggling. I keep my excitement to myself and take my cues from the boredom of the other students. I’m certain being outwardly fascinated by any of this would give me away for sure.

Professor Flitwick, near the end of class, tells us all to try feeling the magic flowing from our hands to our wands. No one else really takes it seriously—I get a few weird looks when I do it anyway, though I explain that disobeying a teacher in the U.S. is a very bad idea—until he announces that we won’t be moving on to actual spells until everyone can get a solid connection working.

With all of those prying eyes now focused on their own wands, I can actually concentrate on mine. It feels the same as it did when I first picked it up. Smooth, perfectly fit to my hand in both temperature and intention. I try to focus on that feeling. The subtle rightness. I don’t know about a flow of magic, but there’s definitely a tingle in my skin where it touches the wood. A growing warmth in my wrist—

“Oh, very good!”

I drop my wand when Professor Flitwick pokes his head into my line of sight. The feeling vanishes and I feel like I’ve dunked my hand in a bucket of ice water. He acts as though it didn’t happen.

“A very good start, Ms. Perry,” he squeaks merrily. I hate that my face gets warm when most of the others turn to look. I consider correcting him, but with everyone looking…

“I just got a headstart, that’s all, but, uh. Thank you, sir.”

“Nonsense. Your prefect wants to have a word with you. Take your things—off you hop!”

He bustles off to comment on others who have also made good connections with their wands. By now, most everyone has gone back to it, but Daphne tugs on my sleeve as I’m gathering my things together.

“You didn’t already get in trouble, did you?” I bristle at her stern tone. “If you lose us points—”

“There was something wrong with my schedule.” I shoulder my bag and start off. “Hopefully, I’ll see you back in the dormitory?”

She nods.

I open the door to Damien pacing a circle in the hall. He perks up when he sees me and immediately offers up a slip of parchment I recognize as my schedule. With a glance, I see it hasn’t changed at all.

“I tried.”

“It’s okay,” I fold it up and push it into my pocket. “What did Professor Snape say?”

“Oh.” He shrugs and looks back down the hall. “He sent me to Dumbledore. Apparently, dad requested the extra classes for you.”

I frown. Is this what Haz accused Kane of talking to Dumbledore about? Something as innocent as a class schedule?

“Give it the week,” he says eventually. “If you start having trouble keeping up, don’t be scared to request dropping the classes.”

I nod, but between a bell echoing, the classroom behind us opening to let the students out, and the nervous churning in my head, I’m a little distracted. I turn to leave, but Damien gets my attention one more time.

“Dumbledore told me you should try to get to Divination early.”

So, of course, I go straight down to my dorm to switch the books in my bag. I wonder how much I ended up having to get that the others didn’t in order to take this classes. I sit for a few minutes with the crystal ball in hand, then leave to join the girls in the common area as we’d planned.

“Did you get your schedule fixed?” Daphne asks.

I shake my head and drop into a plush chair next to the window into the lake. I hand over the schedule for them to puzzle over. I just want to look out. Not that there’s much to see, other than vaguely moving shapes just out of sight.

“Divination?”

“And Arithmancy!” Pansy gasps and I only look back at the sound of crinkling paper. She holds the schedule close to her eyes for a few seconds, then lowers it to aim a sneaky grin at me. “You’re taking Transfiguration with the Gryffindors.”

Tracey snatches the schedule and compares it to hers.

“Oh, yeah, see?” She turns them both around to show me. “We have Transfiguration at the same time you have Arithmancy.”

“This is perfect.” Daphne claps her hands together.

“You’ll have to tell us _everything_ you hear from those idiots over there.”

I feel my smile grow a little fixed while Millicent goes on about spying on the Gryffindors while I’m in class with them. Really, it sounds like it would be a good idea if I had any interest in the feud between the two houses. They make a great case for the Gryffindors being annoying brats. On the other hand, I know three Gryffindors. One of them will be in the class with me unless she’s in a similar situation as I am. I have to keep these girls on my side, but I can’t betray my other friends.

This will be tricky.

But I have to get through Divination first.

I’m really not sure how I feel about Professor Trelawney or her classroom. After the long trek up to her tower, the incense in the air makes it difficult to breathe. Her overdramatic airs actually make it easier not to stress out, though, and I end up seated in a beanbag long before any of the other students arrive. I use the time to add to the letters I plan on sending home during lunch. The letters to Haz, Jess, and my sister end up another six inches long, while I leave the other three alone.

My mom should be hearing good things from me. I’ve never complained about school stuff with my dad. Kane, on the other hand, I’m just too irritated with to consider writing anything to him.

I don’t fully appreciate the fact that this class is for third years until someone drops down at my table. I don’t recognize him, and he’s older than me. His eyes are such a sharp blue that I’m not sure if it would be more rude to look at them or to avert my eyes.

In the end, I look away to roll my letters up.

“Sawyer, right?”

I glance at him, at the bag he digs through.

“Yeah.” I pause. “Have we met, or..?”

“Oh!” He looks up and laughs nervously. “No. Connor mentioned you, and I recognize you from the Sorting.”

“Oh.”

So he’s Connor’s friend. He should be okay, then. Connor was pretty cool.

“What are you doing in Divination?”

“My uncle made an appeal, apparently.” I shrug. “I’m not exactly sure why.”

“Ah, well, it happens.” He settles his crystal ball and textbook on the table, then offers me his hand. “Dominic Tchaikovsky. Ravenclaw.”

I take it without a word. He already knows my name and my house. There’s no point in repeating it.

The class itself is at least sort of interesting. The professor is just as dramatic as she seemed before, and I manage to deflect every question she sends my way, which are many. I know about reading tea leaves from my sister, even if I don’t know what any of the actual symbolism is.

In my cup, Dominic sees a squiggly line he calls a rope and…

“Okay, it could be a beehive or a really messed up egg.”

I look up the difference.

“They’re both good, so I don’t care. What about the rope?” I ask, craning my neck to see.

“An eel!” Professor Trelawney gasps from over my shoulder. “You should take a closer look at your friends, my dear.”

She gives Dominic a mistrustful look before sweeping away.

I look up the eel in our book and snort.

“As if.” I shake my head and peer into Dominic’s cup. “Alright, there’s an anchor. Lucky.”

I turn the cup.

“I think those are, uh. Tongs? Or an alligator, maybe?” I squint. “No, definitely tongs.”

“As if that’s anything new,” he mutters sarcastically with the turn of a page.

“That’s all I can actually make out.” I set the cup down and sigh. “So, I get crappy friends and honor. You get good friends and home trouble.”

He shrugs.

The rest of the day goes by without much fuss. Draco harasses a delicate vine in Herbology and ends up with bright purple sap on his face. I can’t keep from laughing, and about half of the class can’t either. I get my letters sent with Eris after finds me on my way back to the castle. Unless she’s impossibly fast, I don’t think she’ll be in the dorm tonight.

The next morning greets me with four excited girls giving me advice on how to get information out of the Gryffindors. Who looks like they might be dangerous in a duel? Who’s a complete joke? Who isn’t worth messing with?

What kind of person is Harry Potter?

That one comes from Draco Malfoy when he catches wind of what’s going on. He drops down at our table in the Great Hall to insist I report back to him on Harry Potter and how much of a prat he is.

And this is when I get an idea.

My heart’s pounding when I enter the classroom with the wrong house. I don’t know how I manage to get the words out so calmly when I show Professor McGonagall my schedule. Everything screams at me not to be stupid when I circle the room and drop down right next to Harry Potter.

On his other side, Ron Weasley leans forward to glare down his nose at me.

“Hey, aren’t you—”

“Sawyer Perry. Slytherin. Scheduling issues.” I lift a hand in acknowledgement. My voice chooses now to start wavering slightly. “I’ve been recruited by Draco Malfoy and the others in my house to ‘gather information’ on you all.”

“Funny, you’re telling us that,” Harry answers. “Can’t get much out of us when we know your game.”

“Shove off,” Ron adds, to which I shrug.

I pull my book, journal, and quill out in preparation of taking notes. I jump when Hermione takes the seat on the other side of me, though I am happy to see a familiar face. We talk for a few minutes, long enough for me to explain the situation and for her to be jealous that I’m taking extra classes, before I turn back to Harry.

“I want to give Draco false information.”

They stare at me in disbelief. On my other side, Hermione claps.

“I was _wondering_ why you ended up in Slytherin.” She cranes around to address Harry and Ron. “They helped out while we were looking for Neville’s toad.”

They’re still suspicious—and definitely annoyed that Hermione’s here, which is rude—but class begins before I can say much more. We take notes, more complicated than in Charms, and I try not to think about the useless interrogation I’m facing when class is over.

When we’re set loose to try turning a match into a needle, I do try my best. I feel the connection, the warmth in my hands, but the best I get is a shiny silver match without any change in shape. Hermione, of course, manages to get it by the end of class. I’m not the only one with partially transfigured matches, and plenty of people ended up not managing any change at all.

“Fine.”

I look back just before exiting the classroom. Harry stands there with Ron next to him. Ron still glares at me, but Harry holds out a hand. I take it hesitantly.

“Tell them as many lies as you want, so long as you tell me what they are first.” He pauses for a second, then nods. “And let me know what they’re saying, too.”

I relax on the spot.

“The worst they’ve said is that you’re a prat.” I glance at the door, where Pansy and Theo gape from some distance away. When I look back, I smile. “I guess I’ll tell them we’re friends now. More juicy details to come.”

When they pass by, I hear Ron tell Harry this is a bad idea. Being friends with a Slytherin, asking for trouble. They might as well be kicking a hornet’s nest. They don’t have to believe that I’m trying to outwit the Slytherins.

Which is exactly what I do.

“Oh, no, they have no clue.” I scratch Eris’s neck while I talk, cross-legged in the common room. “They were more than happy to make friends with a poor, displaced Slytherin with more heart than they expected.”

“What did I tell you?” Draco drawls. He sits sideways in one of the chairs near the fire. “Harry Potter, Weasley’s friend, couldn’t be anything but a fool.”

“But what about the others?”

“The only one to get the spell we were working correctly was Hermione Granger.”

“Oh, _please_.” Pansy waves a hand dismissively. “The mudblood? I’m more afraid of a flobberworm.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I know the word, the way Rachel and Jay have used it as examples for foul treatment. Jay told me never to let someone call me that. But now I’m here and these people that otherwise seem pretty okay are pointing it at someone else.

At my friend.

“Sawyer? What’s wrong?” Daphne touches my shoulder, but pulls back when I freeze. “You okay?”

One size fits all excuse: activate.

“Oh. We just don’t use language like that where I’m from.” I shrug. “I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

There’s silence, then Pansy nods and apologizes.

“Anyway, I’m not joking that she’s probably the most advanced Gryffindor first year,” I say eventually. “As far as theory goes.”

“Oh, well.”

I manage to transfigure a fresh match correctly a few minutes later. I end up teaching the others how to do it, which is an interesting venture. The same thing happens with History of Magic because I take good notes no matter how bored I end up being.

I only dislike two of my teachers. Professor Binns is boring enough that the only thing keeping me awake is the compulsion to scratch out my notes. I have to write it all down or I’ll never remember it. Not to mention, my house is kind of counting on _someone_ taking good notes.

Then there’s Professor Quirrell, which is something else altogether.

I think he’s kind of amusing in a nervous way. Everything smells like garlic and he’s kind of weird, but he just seems to be a new teacher that decided to focus on the wrong subject.

But I can’t shake this awful feeling whenever I get close to him. Dread like I’ve never felt simmers in my gut and makes it impossible to concentrate. I brought it up to Pansy once, and she was worried about my sanity. Why would anyone be afraid of Professor Quirrell?

I’m not afraid. I just don’t feel safe around him. I keep it to myself after that.

At the next Transfiguration class, I tell Harry about growing up with my muggle parents and moving here to live with my uncle and his family. Even Ron seems to warm up after that. I don’t know if it’s finding out that I’m muggleborn or that I live with the Gleesons that does it.

“Percy’s been complaining about Damien ever since he found out he got prefect,” Ron says. “Says he’s too much like Fred and George.”

They both take a couple tries to get the whole ‘genderless’ thing. They catch on to they/them pronouns fairly quickly, though. Harry tells me little things about growing up without meaning to, I think. I wonder why he wasn’t sent to live with someone like Uncle Kane when the muggles he grew up with made it clear they weren’t going to take care of him. I don’t say anything about it, though. When I meet with the other Slytherins after class, I report that he’s more full of himself than Draco. It earns a few laughs, though I need to remember that any line I walk with Draco Malfoy is a thin one.

Arithmancy is just boring, and that’s all I can really say about it.

The next day, we have double Potions with the Gryffindors, though. I sit in the middle of the second row of tables, Draco Malfoy on one side of me and Hermione Granger on the other.

Joy.

I manage to hold my tongue when Professor Snape picks on Harry in the beginning of class. If there’s one place I have to act like the perfect Slytherin, it’s here. In front of my head of house. Especially if I want to impress him when it comes to potion making.

From what I’ve heard, it doesn’t matter how good you are if he doesn’t like you.

I warned Harry and Ron that I can’t be on their side here, no matter how much I want to be. I hope they don’t hold it against me.

The potion we end up working on in class turns out to be one of the few I took notes on in my own time. I have both my textbook and my journal out so I don’t forget anything.

Even with a few mishaps elsewhere in the classroom (where Harry gets blamed again), and Snape constantly praising Malfoy, I manage to get close to the right shade of green in my finished product. I receive a soft “adequate” when I turn in my vial at the end of class.

That’s honestly more than I expected.


	9. Damage Control

Right when we get the news that Flying lessons start this week, Draco starts bragging about how good he is on a broom. My stomach does flips at the mere mention of the brooms, but I still say nothing. I could probably get away with saying I’ve never flown or that I’m scared of heights, but it leads to too many questions.

I’ve gotten enough weird looks by saying I’m not that interested in Quidditch.

In public, Draco, his two lackeys, and Millicent harass me on the basis of being friends with blood traitors. Back in the common room he defends himself with the idea that the ruse isn’t believable otherwise. Millicent remains friendly when there aren’t eyes on her. That makes me more nervous than the taunts about slumming it with trash.

Which is almost hilarious because the entire first year of Gryffindor knows about me by now. I think the only people in my house who know the truth are Damien and Jaluha.

They warn me that this will only last as long as the lie about my heritage does, but I’m okay with that. Damien gives me support where he can, pitching convincing lies that are likely to satisfy someone like Draco. He reassures me that the older Slytherins get, the less likely they are to remain extreme about their negative views about other students.

At the same time, I watch for who’s on the chopping block.

Draco notices Harry doesn’t get any letters from home and starts being a jerk about it: I send a letter to Haz and he starts receiving regular boxes of fudge to share with his table. Draco starts making fun of Hermione being excited in classes: I share my Arithmancy notes with her during Transfiguration.

Nothing prepares me for Flying lessons.

The first thing is the relief at realizing the brooms have footholds. The second is Draco getting absolutely destroyed about how he flies. The third is Neville getting injured.

Now, Neville is a Gryffindor. If this was Potions, I’d turn around when Malfoy picked up the gift he’d received from home today. Would have finished making whatever potion we were set to make.

But this isn’t Potions.

Before I can even think of how to call him out, though, Harry does it for me. I nearly pull my hair out when Draco takes to the air after a direct threat of expulsion. I fully agree with Hermione, who tries to stop Harry from following.

It’s no use, though.

Even though I’ve never flown, never _seen_ anyone fly, I can tell Harry must be a natural. Draco’s shock confirms as much, and I hope he’ll just give the damn Remembrall over without a fight. When the whole thing’s over and Harry’s been caught off the ground, I’m left certain that my main source of leverage against the other Slytherins was just expelled. Harry leaves with Professor McGonagall, and Draco claims he intended that all along. We all have great ideas in retrospect, though.

At dinner, I nearly melt with relief that Harry’s still in the Great Hall with the rest of the school. Just after dessert starts, I overhear a conversation I don’t think I was meant to hear.

“Look at him over there.” Draco drawls to Crabbe and Goyle. “If that didn’t get him thrown out, bet I know what will.”

“What?” asks Crabbe.

“If he’s wandering around at night, Filch’ll catch him for sure. Come on.”

I don’t dare look up from my meal, not even when they rise and leave the table. I can’t risk getting caught sabotaging Draco’s plan. I have to figure out _what_ the plan is, first. On my way out, I check to make sure that Harry’s still sitting at the Gryffindor table. I manage to separate from the group with the excuse of heading to the library. I need to go over my Divination and Arithmancy, after all, so they accept the lie and don’t offer to come along.

I settle myself in an alcove along the path I’ve seen Gryffindors take in the evenings. Whether this is really the way to their common room, I’m not sure, but it’s the best chance I’ve got. I pretend to read a book while I wait, but at every set of footsteps passing by, I make sure to get a look at who it is. After a couple hours, I get nothing read and I have to assume that I’ve missed them.

I go back to my own common room empty-handed.

I barely have to walk through the door to find out what Draco did, though.

“Imagine his _face!_ ” Most of the others laugh in their usual chairs while he paces in front of the fire. “Waiting for me, then Filch shows up. He’ll be gone by morning.”

I drop into my usual chair next to the lake window. I catch sight of Damien on the other side of the room.

“Can the others sign?” I ask with as small movements as I can hope for him to see. He shakes his head, so I continue. “I have to warn them.”

He glances at Draco and co., then nods. He stands and leaves the common room.

I watch out the window, which illuminates a few feet into the water even at night. I can’t tell what about it makes me nervous, but the way the shapes move out there turns my stomach. I know I should stop watching if it bothers me, but the fear that something will appear the second I look away—

“Sawyer.”

I jolt. When I turn around, Damien stands over me with a note. The negatives of the undulating water shake my vision, but I still stand and take the piece of parchment from him.

It simply has a time written on it in a scribble, 12:30, and the initials ST.

“Professor Trelawney has requested to speak with you about your extra classes. It’s pretty far off, so you’d better go now.” With his back to the rest of the room, he shoots me a wink and adds, in sign, “Trophy room, midnight, for Harry. She really is expecting you. Go if you can.”

So I snatch up my bag and hurry out of the room. Pansy tells me it’s what I get for taking extra classes, so I stick my tongue out at her on the way out.

I wait for the wall to the common room to appear again before heading out at a jog. My watch says I only have ten minutes to get to the third floor and warn them. Maybe not even that long. I try not to creep up the stairs or along the corridors. I have a legitimate reason to be out at night. My professor is waiting for me. I just have to make one stop to warn my friends first.

There’s nothing against the rules about that.

The whispering voices first catch my attention when I’m climbing the stairs to the third floor. I can’t make out any of it, but I do recognize the voices. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville Longbottom.

“Who’s there?”

I nearly jump out of my skin at Filch’s rough voice. The voices in the trophy room fall silent, and I turn to face the caretaker currently stumping toward me.

“You’re in trouble, you are.” He grins in the low light of a lantern. “Out after dark.”

With shaking hands, I raise the note. “I’m on my way to meet Professor Trelawney. I’m allowed.”

He squints at the note, then at me. “There are students out tonight. You know anything about that?”

I shake my head furiously.

“You get on to where you’re going. Don’t let me catch you out without a note!” he calls after me as I hurry away.

I glance into the trophy room on my way past to find it empty. At least they got away. I continue up to the Divination classroom. On the way up the silver ladder into the room itself, I hear a shriek from down below.

I barely manage to concentrate on Trelawney for her entire explanation of tarot cards and fire-omens. She seems pleased to have a student interested in her discipline, though, so I take my notes and try out the cards a few times. She sends me away with a tarot deck and a list of books to find. I take a look at my watch upon entering the empty common room to realize I have five hours until I have to be in Charms.

I don’t even bother finding my way to the dormitory. I set an alarm on my watch and settle into the chair next to the window. For the first time in a long time, I hardly have to wait at all before I fall asleep.


	10. Blowing Out the Candles

I wake the next morning up to Eris cawing in my face and three of my dorm mates standing over the chair. With a painful but satisfying stretch, I stand and joke about my new tarot deck.

Draco is furious when, not only is Harry still here, he receives a suspiciously shaped package with his owl. On the subject of brooms, Tracey continues explaining how Quidditch works to me. She seems to have accepted the idea that my family isn’t interested in sports.

“So, basically, the point is to catch the Snitch,” I say, dumbfounded. “Why all the pomp and circumstance, then?”

“It’s more complicated than that.” She serves herself another few pieces of toast with jam. “You’d have to watch a game to get it.”

At lunch, Hermione tells me the story about finding a three-headed dog in the forbidden third floor corridor. I’m split between being excited and disappointed that I ended up distracting Filch instead of finding them first and joining the adventure. She seems more than happy to be done with it.

And so it goes.

Draco complains more and more about Harry and I have to twist lies more and more in order to satisfy him. Eventually, I wish I hadn’t started this in the first place. I wish I hadn’t agreed to feed the Slytherins information at all.

It’s breakfast on my birthday when I finally snap. He’s been pushing too hard. Saying too much about people I care about. About the people I live with and person they don’t know I am.

Damien told me to wait until they knew I could beat them in a duel. Well, I know I could now, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

“Okay, Draco, you know what?” I drop my fork and knife on my plate and turn to him. “It’s story time at the Slytherin table.”

“What’s the matter?” he drawls. He’s too focused on digging through the newest package from home to look at me. “Did we offend your American sensibilities again?”

What a joke.

“I’m muggleborn.”

Every conversation in earshot falls silent. Pansy and Daphne turn to look at me, but I’m not sure about the others because I’m too busy meeting the disdain in Draco’s gaze. It hits me, what I just did. I can’t take it back.

“Anyone who has a problem with that isn’t worth my time.”

I rise from the table and leave the hall. I don’t have classes today, so I end up in the library with none of my books and a pressure in my throat and behind my eyes. I don’t know if I can find a secluded place to cry just now, but I _do_ know I won’t be able to keep the tears back for long.

I finally said it.

I gave up the guaranteed safety of an ambiguous heritage. If the Slytherins start being just as awful to me as they are everyone else, maybe I’ll be able to make friends without having to convince anyone that I’m a ‘good’ Slytherin.

I bump into someone, almost walk past them, then stop when they catch hold of my arm. Bile rises into my throat, urging me to jerk away, but I don’t have the energy. I stare into a bookshelf that I don’t recognize. I don’t think I’ve been this deep into the library before.

“Sawyer?”

I look at Connor, who still holds my arm in a not-quite-uncomfortable way that grates my nerves. He looks like he’s probably said my name a couple times. I still don’t quite have myself together enough to say anything.

“Jesus, are you okay? What happened?”

Instead of answering, I clench my jaw in an attempt to keep the tears from spilling without my permission. If I could just calm down a little bit, I would be able to explain it to him. I take a breath when he asks again.

And promptly start crying.

“Oh, geez.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” I sputter. I wipe my eyes and he finally lets go of my arm. “I’m just—ugh—just a muggleborn in Slytherin. Been lying to everyone for weeks about it, and now the secret’s out!”

“That was you?”

I force a breath out through my nose while I nod. I hate this. This is such a stupid thing to cry about. There wasn’t even an actual argument. _Nothing bad has even happened yet_.

“I heard you’ve been getting them to leave people alone,” he says. “Is that true?”

I shrug.

“I mostly cleaned up the messes. Made people feel less awful.” I realize what house Connor’s in. “How do you know about it?”

“I have a feeling the younger Slytherins are the only ones that don’t.” He reaches out, hesitant, and brushes a tear away. “Distracting the worst of the new kids with shiny lies and interesting tricks.”

“Why the hell am I a Slytherin?” I ask miserably.

He actually laughs out loud.

“Let’s see.” He counts his points on his fingers as he speaks. “Ambitious: You decided to keep your heritage secret and actually did it. Even though, I’m assuming, you were learning about the magical world as you went.

“Cunning: You’ve been running an information swap with the other houses to keep the other Slytherins happy, I assume? But really, the fact that it sounds like you did it primarily to protect yourself reeks of Slytherin.”

“But I didn’t just do it for myself,” I insist. “I did it for Hermione, too.”

He blinks at me, then grins.

“Well, normally Slytherins are fiercely loyal to other Slytherins. You just latched onto a different group.”

I frown. At least I’m not crying anymore.

“What group?”

“Muggleborns. Can I join your club?”

And I have no choice but to be his friend after that. I sit with him and talk about my extra classes (which he’s impressed by) and the different houses (which I’m fascinated by). I invite him to my birthday party and he suggests he brings his friends. I don’t know how long we talk before my name drifts through the air in a hiss.

In several hisses.

I crane around a bookshelf to see Pansy, Daphne, Tracey, and Theo creeping through the library. Connor responds to my helpless glance with a shrug.

“You’re the one that has to live with them,” he whispers. “Should I go?”

I shake my head and raise a hand to catch the group’s attention.

Pansy covers her mouth to keep from shouting to the group, but all four of them end up at our table within seconds.

Daphne and Tracey start with a babble of apologies. Pansy sandwiches my hand with hers while she explains that, of course she wouldn’t have said any of those things if she had know I was muggleborn. I let them all speak until they run out of steam.

Connor looks just as uncomfortable as I feel.

After a while, Pansy runs out of things to say. Tracy and Daphne trail off in no time. I don’t have anything to say. How do you tell someone that the knowing isn’t the problem? It’s the fact they said it in the first place, isn’t it?

Then Theo, who I thought had just been dragged along, speaks.

“That was very impressive, keeping it a secret for so long.” His gaze is level and clear, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. “It’s proof enough that you belong with us.”

“Thank you?”

“My father was a follower of the Dark Lord—He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—before I was born,” he admits. I instinctively clench my fists. Everything I know about the mysterious You-Know-Who has come from Hermione, and none of it is good for people like us. “My mother was killed as a punishment for renouncing him several years after the Dark Lord fell from power.”

The library is even more quiet than usual.

“I’m not a fan,” he adds dryly. “But I’m a Slytherin and that’s what Slytherins are supposed to believe, right? That mud—”

He pauses with a self-deprecating smile.

“That muggleborns aren’t as good as we are.”

“But you don’t believe that, all of a sudden?” Connor cuts in. His skepticism is more than warranted after the past few weeks I’ve had. “What’s with the change of heart?”

Theo closes his eyes as if this is physically painful for him. When he opens them, the barest trace of regret glimmers there.

“What I know is this: Every single first year Slytherin has been learning Transfiguration and History of Magic from a muggleborn.” He nods at me, and Pansy pats my hand lovingly. “And I can’t forget that, no matter what I’m supposed to think.”

“Hang on, you’re teaching them History of Magic?” Connor gives me a look that screams utter betrayal. “Half the school would _pay_ you for that.”

The whole group laughs. Theo reminds Connor that he’s still a Hufflepuff and he can’t quite let that slide yet. It’s established that they’re the only Slytherins in our year willing to continue affiliating with me as of now. Draco has Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent under his thumb, and Blaise is too good for everyone.

I invite them to meet the other Gleesons, Hermione, Connor’s friends, and I by the lake for the pitiful birthday party I have planned. They agree and leave. Connor also excuses himself to find everyone he just volunteered to come to a miserable first year’s birthday party.

It turns out to be a fun lakeside party. Connor brings his brother and Dominic, who teases me about eels in teacups. My Slytherin friends start out stiff and mistrustful, but by the end we’re all laughing. The stolen butterbeer Damien brought is shared without house lines.

I find out it’s _also_ Connor and Jordan’s birthday, a coincidence to end all coincidences.

It’s been such a good day since breakfast that not even Draco’s glower while I cross the common room on the way to bed can knock my mood down. Pansy hangs back to talk to him, and the tension in the air is almost painful when I close the door behind me.

A tentative peace reigns until Halloween.

I wasn’t expecting the castle to be so festive. Bats flutter in the halls and everything smells of pumpkin and cinnamon. I send more letters to my various homes and receive gifts of candy and baked goods in return.

It’s Halloween!

Hermione and I plan to study at lunch, since she’s always interested in my Arithmancy notes and it’s a chance for me to hear what tomorrow’s Charms lesson will be. I hang out in the Charms corridor to meet her, but she ends up bursting through the door in tears. I give Ron and Harry a furious glare when I hear them mention her, then follow her. I’m not leaving her to be upset by herself.

I catch up with her around the corner.

“Hermione. Hey—” She turns into an empty classroom and I trot after her. “What happened?”

She turns, face red and tears still squeezing past her eyes. “Ronald Weasley is the cruelest, most _block headed_ boy I’ve ever met.”

"What did he say?" I keep my distance. I know how good she is with a wand, and I’d rather not get hexed out of the room.

She huffs and drops into a chair. I follow, slow and steady, into a chair of my own. She fumes on her own for a few minutes, and I wait. I hope she’d tell me if she didn’t want me here.

Eventually, she looks at me. I worry that I might not be able to help.

“You—” She cuts herself off, then tries again. “You don’t just tolerate me, right? You don’t think I’m a _nightmare_ or that no one can stand me?”

I stare at her.

“Hermione, I lied to my entire house about Gryffindors for more than a month because I didn’t want to talk about you behind your back.”

It’s her turn to stare at me. I don’t know if she knew that already or not. After a short pause, she tells me what Ron said. I offer to hex him the next time I see him, but she sort of laughs it off.

“I was being a terrible show-off in Charms,” she admits.

“How about this?” I pull my journal out of my bag along with my Charms and Arithmancy books. “I’ll go snag us both some lunch and we can skip the rest of the day. There’s just Flying left over, right?”

She nods, but a complaint waits just behind it. I cut her off.

“You’re stressed. It’s Halloween.” I smile and tap my journal. “You make me actually enjoy Arithmancy because I know you’re gonna like my dumb notes. I can even go get my other textbooks since you seem to think studying is the same thing as relaxing.”

She struggles with this. She does relent, though.

“You’re a bad influence” she accuses. “Let’s go down to the first floor, though. Less of a walk for you.”

I agree and run off to get my textbooks and lunch while she moves what we already have to a classroom on the first floor. Daphne asks if I’m doing alright before I duck back out of the Great Hall, and I tell her the truth: Hermione isn’t feeling well. We’re taking a day to relax.

When I turn away, there’s an indistinct mutter followed by a smack and Pansy saying, “Keep your mouth shut or _move,_ Malfoy.” It’s my opening story when I find the classroom Hermione chose. She put together a chart for what she needs to get done and even made a blank one for me, which only takes me a few minutes to fill in.

It’s probably my most relaxed afternoon since leaving home. Even though I’m working the whole time—I finish an essay each for Potions, Arithmancy, and Transfiguration—the classroom is comfortable. We read our work to each other, tease about dumb mistakes, and talk about plans for the future.

I check my watch in time in time to get to the Great Hall as the feast is beginning, and I’m out with enough food for the both of us before anyone gets a chance to ask where I’ve been.

I nearly bump into Professor Quirrell when he bursts out of the staircase to the dungeons. He doesn’t even seem to notice me, but I have to stop in my tracks. Blindsighted by the roiling of my stomach, I dash back to the classroom as soon as I’m capable of moving.

Hermione isn’t here, though. A note in her handwriting says she had to go to the bathroom. I place our dinner on a desk and shove the note in my pocket before heading for the closest bathroom. I need to wash my hands before we eat, anyway.

“Today was productive, wasn’t it?” she asks uncertainly from the sinks when she realizes it’s me. “It was worth missing class for?”

I roll my eyes and shove my hands under a faucet.

“You had a bad day. You turned it into a good-ish day.” I almost say something else, but I look up when the door opens instead.

I want to scoop my brains out of my head when the first thought I have is ‘muggles should not have toys named after trolls.’

The door slams shut after it a second later, and my body finally catches up with my brain when the troll actually seems to notice we’re here. Hermione screams and retreats into one of the stalls.

I move to follow her, my breath too arrested to make a single noise, but a club knocks into the stalls before I can take a step. Most of them collapse, and I only manage to not freak out at the idea of Hermione being in there when she shrieks again.

Okay, she’s fine.

I’m still in the open.

I turn back to the troll and it’s so _big_. My wand has already found its way into my hand, but I have no idea what to do with it. I know how to shoot sparks and turn household items into other household items. I wrack my brain for any of the jinxes and hexes I’ve learned with the Slytherins, but would any of them even work against a troll?

I don’t even realize that I’m backing up until my back hits the wall. The troll lifts its club, but it just strikes the stalls again, this time coming dangerously close to the one Hermione hides in. Does it not realize I’m here? If I don’t move, will it leave me alone?

But Hermione’s in the stalls.

I lift my wand and say the first thing that comes to mind.

“ _Ebublio._ ”

It doesn’t quite do what it’s supposed to do—wrap the troll in a huge bubble—but a bubble around its head definitely confuses it. An instant later, the door opens again and Ron and Harry burst in.

I nearly collapse in relief. The two of them immediately start working to confuse the troll, so I dart to the stalls to try and get Hermione out. When I open the door, she stutters about the troll, but she lets me drag her out of the stall.

“We have to go,” I mutter in an attempt to calm both of us down. “Ron, the cruelest person you’ve met, is here with Harry Potter. How about that?”

She laughs shakily and Harry stops beside us.

He moves to pull us toward the door but stops when he sees the troll going after Ron. Then he does something that is the exact reason that I am not in Gryffindor house.

He jumps on the troll’s back.

Ron points his wand at the creature and it’s over in seconds. The troll’s club lifts into the air and hits its owner in the head. It falls forward—which is lucky for Harry—and the four of us wait with bated breath to see if it’ll get back up.

It doesn’t.

Hermione, sounding as frightened as I feel, asks if it’s dead. I don’t know how to answer, so I’m glad Harry ends up giving her a negative.

My relief at surviving a troll attack disappears when Professors McGonagall, Quirrell, and Snape rush into the bathroom. We’re scolded, and my stomach drops when McGonagall confirms that we could have died.

Hermione shocks me by stepping forward.

“Please, Professor McGonagall—they were looking for me.”

I stare at her as Hermione Granger lies to cover all of us. Tells three professors that she thought she could take on the troll on her own. She included me in the daring rescue story, so it would ruin everything if I tried to take some of the blame away from her.

Damn.

She’s dismissed after losing her house five points and receiving a stern talking to. She turns to Ron and Harry, then, and _gives them five points each_. She then dismisses them and turns my blood to ice with the look she directs at me before following them out.

I bet she’s going to get Dumbledore.

“Should I believe Granger’s story?” Professor Snape asks quietly.

I turn my gaze on him, but immediately look away. His eyes are cold and I know he knows it was a lie. He wants me to tell him what really happened, but I won’t let Hermione get caught in a lie.

“We came after the troll together, sir,” I admit. His brow twitches up, and I know that’s not the truth he was expecting. “We were studying together down the hall and thought we’d be enough as a team.”

“I see.” He waves a hand in dismissal. “Five points to Slytherin.”

I practically sprint out before he can change his mind.

Back in the common room, I join my half of the first years in finishing the Halloween feast. After swearing them to secrecy, I tell them the official story of what just happened. I don’t want the truth getting out to the rest of the Slytherins, after all.

What really happened in that bathroom will stay between the three Gryffindors and I.


End file.
